The Pitch Contest

I had turn this entry in for a contest, we were to write on why "we should be the chosen one", I made mine out to be a story, though i submitted a shorter version than the writing below. so lean forward towards your screen and use the comment box below to put down those thoughts when you are done.

In an industry where creatives thrive, a king is yet to be crowned; the castle has been kept clean, the master room waiting to be used by the master. The hall way is lined with creatives of old, the last being the long forgotten ruler. Whilst the peasant seek the gods, there is a feeling of expectancy amongst the knights, speeches have been written, kingly gait practiced in front of a mirror in high hopes that all will not be for naught.  

The story teller’s envision the celebration with gusto, in dire need to weave a story and brandish the theme song as the maidens promise to dance with exaggerated sway of their hips .However, the rising of the sun holds sway their desires only to break  its promise with the setting of the sun.

A medley of words was heard in the morn, clattering of footsteps could be heard from a far, necks craning, followed by scrambling and loud whispering of the people wondering if the long awaited time is upon them and squeezing in between the smallest of spaces to see the body sewn to the voice. The figure stops in front of the multitude. Looking about to see the gathering, he climbs unto a footstool. Seizing the chance to bask in the attention showered from all, he takes his time and with a practiced smile exposing teeth blackened from rum - making the infants hide under their ma’s skirt - he addresses the congregation.

“The time of mourning is over

All our sack cloth will be burnt and the drunk shall stay sober

For a king will be chosen from your midst

One who can fight for us not with his fist!

But with words that can cut finely like a sword!”

Like a rehearsed script, shouts rose into the air, the dark gloom was dispel as the chants and screams escaped the lips of everyone gathered, the horses were not left behind in the fray as they were in frenzy.  Infants clamored for attention from their ma and pa that had little or no time to cuddle or see to their wants. From the stage, the figure looks dejected as concentration shifts from the "podium" where he stood to the crowd.

“I shall win this” one of the nobles muses, "I will show them that I am the best" and takes off with a hurried step towards his home with strategy playing darts in his mind. In no time, the square is empty, each taking to his plans, with renewed vigor. And so they dispersed to converge on the morrow when the die will be cast.

Dawn breaks, the horizon is clear as cool breeze blows and trees sway as if dancing to music. Activities could be seen across the kingdom; every home had a young-ling or an adult participating- all adding last pieces to their pack of cards. At the stroke of noon, a trumpet sound is heard, signaling the beginning of the contest. As the seats are beginning to get taken, pocket of fight breaks out with people wanting to get the best position that could allow for easy viewing. A raised hand silences the noise and with a booming voice the speaker welcomes the people and wishes the contestants the best as he opens the curtains revealing the hopefuls.

One after the other they came, some with their dreadful voices, others with their ill-written poetry, and with their tails hanging between their legs, they were booed by the crowd. Fading hope hovers as sweat glisten on their foreheads. With clothes sticking to their bodies from perspiration, they wait for the very last contestant praying and holding unto each other that she would be their messiah.

With a clear voice, her words were carried, she spoke with passion, and compassion, and as she finished, cries erupted from the crowd chanting “crown her”…and with the royal robe placed on her and the crown on her head she took her place amongst the noble and addressed her people as the Queen of the kingdom.

And so she said in closing, “permit me (this once) if I sound a little self-important… but I am the only one qualified to get this”.