“The Chalice”
A Creative Writing Quest Story
by Francis Evans
This is an example of a stories written using the principles demonstrated through the Creative Writing workshop.
The lid of the chest was fashioned from gold and encrusted with a rich array of gemstones. Initially there seemed to be no pattern to their layout, but after a while of study, a complex geometrical structure became evident.I, as the searcher, or aspirant upon the path, gazed in queer amazement, like a sickening excitement lay upon my stomach and I wondered whether I should dare, even trouble to open the lid.I was also aware that there were a number of other souls watching my progress.I was tempted, that’s for sure. I felt my hand reach out, until it was but a few hair’s breadths from its clasp when I stopped.In the back of my mind there was a memory of a past event. That’s where I stopped. I knelt before the casket, bowed my head and considered the trials that had lead to my arrival. Had I done all that was asked? Had my complaints been noted, and hence my denial? Had I come all this way, and yet to be cast out with little more than my life, which at this stage was so worthless?
I knew what was to happen next just had to unfold. I had all the time in the world, for having dedicated myself to this quest, I was no longer of the immediate world, but was a server of the light. These myriads of thoughts passed through my mind in less time than it takes to recount the experience. This ragged penniless servant was no longer of use to the mundane world where there was no place for him, yet he was the total servant of it at the same time. At last I felt a radiant explosion in my mind and sight. I knew something had happened, and lifted my eyes. There before me, this wondrous chest had opened itself, and exposed its contents. Do you know how it feels to know something before you can elevate your mind to comprehend it. I knew without doubt, that I was to be allowed to gaze upon the holy chalice of legend. Every action that had led to this place was regurgitated by the keeper of my mind. Yet, even here was a miracle. For every memory was structurally the same but the assignment of meaning was so radically different that I was immediately awed. I don’t remember sucking in my breath so hastily, but that must have been the case, for out of the darkness of the furthermost reaches of the room, stepped forth my guide and mentor. “Meelon, once again old friend you have appeared at the time of my need. Tell me of this mystery that I find myself engaged upon.”
“Surely, there is time aplenty”, he answered, “but first, rest and catch back your breath. Did you really think that having once engaged my service, you may do anything without my knowledge? As we have instructed many times before, this world is but a mystery to endure. Once you have truly touched the innermost portion of your heart, you reach to your inner guide. Many people claim such guidance, yet clearly we are reserved for the honourable traveller. You may stare at this cup at length, but let me warn you never to touch it, for it burns the personality fiercely, and any but those completely free will suffer tremendous pain. Like the phoenix they too will be reborn, but pain and terror cannot be released except through the lessons of reversal. Come follow me”
It was difficult enough to draw myself away from the object of my passion, and it was strange to once again feel the tenderness that had been inflicted on my knees after the length of time they had been subjected to the rough unevenness of the floor. Though soon they regained their normal feeling, and I found I could move as freely as ever. I followed Meelon down the corridor through which I had run a few hours before. The walls were very smooth, though much whiter than they had been. Perhaps the sun had reached a point where it shone directly into the entrance. After a brisk walk, and I think I have already told you how fast Meelon could move, we finally arrived at the point where the corridor branched into two. Between the two branches stood a large wooden door, that I am certain wasn’t there during my first visit. I turned to Meelon, but as usual he was nowhere to be seen. I’d gotten used to that, so I preceded with a certain amount of haste, for I was getting hungry and was sure it was well into the afternoon.
Stepping up to the door, I grasped the iron ringed handle, turned it, pushed the door open and entered. It wasn’t as light as I had hoped, so it took some time for my eyes to accustom to the quality. This was some sort of ritual chamber, rather than the bedroom or kitchen that I had thought. It was a few moments and then I realised that there were four goblets sitting on small alabaster tables in the four corners of the room.A very large sword hung from the far wall, and a light wooden lance lay half way across the floor, more or less marking out a boundary. Obviously, this was some sort of challenge, but one that I was in no mood for. I bent down and solidly picked up the demarcation line and held it aloft. The rush of intense feeling filled my being and I was left embraced, potentised and graced.
Like all Quest stories, this story was continued to a resolution.