Member-only story
The Writings on the Wall
A story of untold meanings. And no, there isn’t an apostrophe missing there.
[Introductory note: this started out as a short story meant for a literary magazine specialising in ethical and philosophical pieces, and was intended as a fairly serious work about Wittgenstein’s philosophy of language.
But it morphed into a more humorous (I hope!) take, which could potentially be a longer story, maybe even a novel(la). Other characters, including the Earl of Sandwich from yesterday’s post, are waiting in the wings.
But I don’t know if it is going to hit its two intended targets, of being thought-provoking and entertaining. So any feedback — even if it’s to say ‘this is crap’ — would be most welcome.
Anyway, here goes…]
The walls of the palace were high and mighty, but not enough to keep out the din of the swelling rabble outside. The King would have to be told.
“If I may have a word, my lord…”
“Oh, what is it now, Chamberlain? More warrants to sign? Who’s for the chop this time?”
“Trouble with the commoners, my liege. The crops have failed again, the granaries of the land are empty.”
