A Tiney Tale
Another Writing Battle prompt, and I made it to the top 16! Could not believe it. This time Fairy Tale, Golden Child and Knife. I had never written a fairy tale before this, but I have to say, this was a lot of fun. I really wanted to do something different. It was so hard not to get lyrical with the lines, and some made it through, but I kept it out as much as possible. Tiney thanks you for reading!
In the kingdom of Kitch-End, a place of angles and edges, counters and caverns, lived a little two-tined fork named Tiny. His parents were lost long ago in the Great Move, leaving him orphaned and ignored. The Giants never chose him to defend against The Food, Kitch-End’s mortal enemy. So he hid in the darkness, alone, afraid if found, like Old Broken Ladle, he’d be thrown into the Great Heap to be lost forever.
On a cool autumn morning, Tiny heard the teaspoons stirring. They were often called to battle the Brownian Scourge. But this day was different. One of them slipped and fell into the Cavern of Dra-Wer. With a clang, the clumsy spoon toppled onto Tiny, knocking him down. With a look of surprise, she scooped herself up.
“Are you hiding in here?” She asked.
“Yes,” he replied.
“But why?”
He looked away. “Because nobody needs me.”
“But everyone is needed. Why else would you exist?” she said, circling to find his eyes.
“But then, why am I never chosen?” he argued.
“How would they find you silly when you’re hiding in the dark?”
“I guess that’s true,” he conceded.
“Come, let me show you the beauty that Kitch-End holds. I’m Gwendolen.”
And just like that, a friendship was born. Gwendolen brought Tiny to the counter, where he looked out over The Range to see a herd of pans grazing under popping oil rain. She showed him the Great Frozen Cavern, where The Food slumbered and a device worked endlessly creating cubes of ice.
One evening, they sat on the ledge beneath the Great Window, high above the counter, gazing at a pink moon.
“I’ve never been so happy,” he said.
Gwendolen leaned over and, with a clink, gave Tiny a kiss.
Suddenly, a voice exploded below.
“How dare you! She’s mine! I challenge you to death useless fork!” screeched the Knife Prince, who’d been spying on them from the sink.
Gwendolen pleaded with Tiny, “No, don’t go. We can run away to the crags of Gar-Ag. He won’t find us in the hills of the Baby Food Jars.”
“I’m sorry, but you’ve opened my tines. I cannot live in the shadows anymore.” Tiny jumped from the ledge to land with a clatter. The Prince sneered at him with rage in his eyes.
“I accept!” Tiny yelled for all to hear.
Spatula followed, “Everyone! Everyone! It’s the duel of the year!”
Kitch-End broke out in a fervor as all crowded over the edge of the arena.
Whisk announced the rules, “To the death they fight over the Pit of Grinding.”
Cheers erupted.
The Knife Prince, the golden child, heir to all, friend to none.
“I get what I want,” The Prince whispered.
As the crowd went silent, Tiny looked up to see the Butcher Block King and his Cutting Board Queen. With the King’s nod of approval, the fight could begin.
Sponge lifted himself from the pit, revealing the giant maw. A click from above unleashed the monster. A gurgle shook the sink, almost knocking Tiny down. The knife circled the pit, his face serrated with anger.
“No one will remember such a useless thing.”
Tiny, half the knife’s size, readied his two tines. The Prince lunged, as if cutting through Steak, but Tiny was faster. He parried, then captured the Prince’s blade. With a twist of his body, The Prince flew, slamming into the side of the sink.
The crowd went wild.
Tiny kept his distance as the knife recovered, looking for an opening. The Prince started jumping up and down, sawing the air. In a flash, the knife was bouncing toward him. Tiny tried to dodge, but it was too late. The Prince knocked him away, spinning him toward certain death.
Gasps.
Tiny teetered precariously on the edge of the hungry pit. The Prince jumped higher, spinning in the air, then plunged to deliver his final blow. But Tiny shifted and redirected the knife’s blade with a flick of his tine, sending The Prince hurdling for the hungry hole.
Silence in Kitch-End as the Knife Prince slid deeper into the mouth. But a tine flew out and grabbed around The Prince. With great effort, Tiny pulled the knife to safety. The Prince stood up, his face cut with confusion.
Dead silence.
Tiny extended a tine. “Let’s be friends.”
“To the death!” someone in the crowd shouted.
The Prince readied himself for another round, but Tiny left his tine out. The Prince looked to The Queen, then back at Tiny. A smile spread across his face. He then bowed. “Yes, I’d like that. I’ve never had one before.”
Murmuring broke out. Tiny saw Whisk look at Spatula, who shrugged. Had something like this never happened before? But it was The Queen who stepped forward and set things straight. “Friendship is the one thing that can stop a fight.”
All of Kitch-End applauded.
But as The Prince stepped forward to shake Tiny’s tine, a shadow engulfed Kitch-End, taking everyone by surprise. It was The Giants, who descended and plucked Tiny away.
“No!” cried Gwendolen, but it was too late.
Hours passed and Tiny did not return. Kitch-End remained shrouded in sadness for the friend they never knew. For they feared what he feared, The Heap, from which no one ever returned.
But then The Giants appeared again, bringing Tiny back and placing him in the sink. With a huge grin, he regaled Kitch-End of his battle at the Jar of Ole-Ive and how he protected The Giants from the red-eyed Green Orbs of the Murky Swamp. A hero who’d finally found his purpose. But that wasn’t the only thing he found. Wrapping his tines around Gwendolen, they clinked. Never again would Tiny hide in the shadows of Dra-Wer. Never again would he be alone.
And so goes the story of the spoon and the fork, who one day together, would bring Kitch-End something special, their precious little Spork.