Memory of Courage
[Author's Note: I originally published this story in April of 2004 on my LiveJournal literary community, indiefiction. It is the result of a formal bet I had made with a friend at college, where I agreed, were I to lose my end of the bargain, to write a short story featuring the struggle and format of his choice. He picked an Mock Epic of Man vs. Cantaloupe. The wager was whether I could reasonably predict which shirt my roommate would wear a few days in advance. Based on his past t-shirt selection habits, I thought I had his code broken; however, on the day in question, I was sad to discover that chaos intervened. He was not wearing the predicted t-shirt. Thus, the following poem.] The maiden was faire as she stood sidelong; Her man fronted by a fierce vinèd fruit. He drew his sword, fronting his oppugnant, Ready to avast the fierce muskmelon. The eye of the ballèd melon stared quick. Licking the blade of Artanamater, His faitheful sword and steed from ages yore, Our her