Inspiration for Writing

My Pinterest Dream board is full of illustrations that make me think, Ooh. Writing inspiration. Yassss.

And then it just sits there and I never write anything. Which is a waste, I think. When people make art I think they want it to inspire someone to do something. And as someone who thinks they're a writer, not writing is a waste too. So I decided to do something about it.

I'm hoping to pick a piece a couple times each week and write about it. If I'm okay with it, I'll share it here. If not, well, I'll revise until I am.

Mkay?

Mkay.

So here's my first attempt at being inspired.

The artist is Brian Froud and the illustration can be found in The Land of Froud. 

Isn't it great? Click on that sucker and see it a bit bigger. I promise, it's just gorgeous. I've been looking at his other work and if you don't think he's talented we are not in the same boat. At all.

Anyway, here goes.

The Banner

The arrogant knight adjusted his visor for the hundredth time that morning. His new set of armor, including his helmet, was a bit large, but he'd never admit that. Not in a thousand years. His ego filled what his brawn did not. Looking down the line of knights to his right, he snorted in smug disgust, wondering why any of them had bothered to show up. After all, hadn't they heard he'd be there? He snorted particularly loudly when the last knight was announced and led an old mare to his side. It was obvious the armor on this knight was not new. His shield was battered and barely had any paint left. And when the arrogant knight saw the broken pole that carried what looked like half of a handkerchief in the poor knight's rusted gauntlet, he smirked and held himself higher on his stallion. Glancing at his own banner, pride swelled in his chest. He'd requested the pole for his banner be made slightly taller and the cloth cut a smidge longer than was usual. He saw that even the shadow of his banner stood out furthest on the soil.

Knights had gathered from all over Europe once news of a forest troll had spread. It had stolen livestock and destroyed property, but the last straw was when it had almost taken a young maiden from a nearby meadow. When the parents of the young girl made their plea to the king, he sent out messengers in every direction. 

Forest troll: large. Reward: also large.

The king decided that the knights would go into the woods, one by one. Luck of the draw decided who went first, second, and so on. Fate decided who would live.

All of the knights came back in poor shape; some of them, merely bodies dragged back to the village by a loyal horse. This went on all day until late evening. The arrogant knight was almost asleep when his name was called. Straightening himself, he spurred his noble steed forward toward the darkening woods. He just knew he'd return successful in less time than it had taken the rest of them to fail. One last look at his banner, and he disappeared amidst the trees.

Gorloth yawned sleepily near the mouth of his cave. After a long day of fighting off intruders, he looked forward to his moss bed. He wasn't sure where they were all coming from. Perhaps it had something to do with him scaring the small one with the golden hair. She'd wail and pick his favorite flowers in his favorite meadow day after day after day. He was sure scaring her would keep her quiet. But now this?

He was just about to retire when something caught his eye.

A tall red banner slowly made it's way through the lower branches, coming straight for him.

~

I'm thinking of reading it to the kids for their bedtime story tomorrow night. What do you think?