For the Good of the Realm
By Jill N Davies
“For the good of the realm, I beg you—eat this pickle!” The strange man waved the limp little cucumber under my nose. It flopped to the left, a pale green drop of liquid suspended from its tip, threatening to upend the world as we know it.
That’s what I thought he said.
There was no way… I mean—he was wearing a ratty old robe that looked like it came from the twelfth century. He hadn’t brushed his hair in at least a couple of decades. He had crazy eyes. The guy was for sure insane.
… then again… when the robe hit the light it shimmered like a clear sky littered with a billion stars. And his hair also had a look to it—when he turned his head just so, it wasn’t a matted mess—it was smooth and long and caught the breeze like he was the hero of an epic fantasy… and his eyes… were they crazy or were the alive with the fire of a man impassioned with duty…?
It was just enough to make me second guess the whole situation. And I really didn’t want to be second guessing myself because I hated pickles. The very thought of biting into a soggy vinegar bomb made me want to curl into a protective turtle-ball and vomit.
How long had it been? A decade? No, more than that.
The memory came unbidden… Granny’s house. The tiny kitchen that should have felt cramped. The beige refrigerator with the faux wood-handle. The smell of salt and brine mingling with the cloyingly sweet potpourri.
“They’re nutritious!”
I didn’t care. I didn’t believe her either. But no ten-year-old says no to their dear old Granny… This weird old wizard though?
“Here, I’ll wrap a slice of cheese around it and make it a real treat!” Her sun-spotted fingers made quick work of the cellophane wrapping around the artificial slice. It was perfection wrapped around a warty nightmare.
I gagged it down, tears streaming down my cheeks as Granny looked on with pride. I would’ve kept it down too, if I could have—that’s how much I loved Granny. But it wasn’t up to me. My body revolted and the squishy chunky mess came right back up—right on Granny’s Formica counter.
The old man’s eyes flashed with impatience. His fingers trembled as he held the sloppy, disgusting pickle out.
“How will eating a pickle—”
“No time! You must eat it now!” He thrust the pickle forward, right under my nose so I could smell that same salty tang.
I was about to shove his hand away when the ground trembled below me. Somehow, I knew it was connected. It was as if the Earth itself was speaking to me, warning me.
So what choice did I have?
I took the pickle.
The wizard looked partially relieved, but still terrified.
I brought it up to my lips as dark clouds collected into a siphon.
“It must be done with haste!”
Lightning tore through the sky as I took my first bite. Didn’t my high school physics teacher electrocute a pickle?
I gagged the first bite down, aching for a breath of fresh air, but the wizard shoved my hand forward, forcing me to take the next bite. As I chewed the earth split open. A deep and terrible cavass split
Main Street down the middle, forcing cars up onto sidewalks as terrified onlookers shrieked.
Is this pickle saving the world or destroying it?
“It’s happening…” the old wizard shuddered, grabbing my jaw as tough he could force me to swallow.
In went another bite as a torrential rain began to fall. All around us the air turned black with the darkness of a moonless night.
I was halfway through when I managed to gasp, “Why is this happening?”
But the wizard didn’t answer. He only urged me to keep going.
As fire shot up from the broken earth an unspeakable scream rose from the depths, drowning out the cries of terror on the surface. All around me people fled for safety.
Two more bites at most. The vinegar burned my throat as tears filled my eyes. Dear god! What’ll happen if I can’t keep it down?
Fire and ice struggled for dominance as the world crumbed around me. Somewhere in the distance a building crumbled, its rubble turning to dust and then mud as it mingled with the downpour.
“Swallow the last bite!” The command was urgent and pleading.
I fought my instinct to spit the vile thing up. Acid burned at the back of my mouth. I wanted to scream but instead I chewed as the world fell apart all around me.
Something was coming. I could hear its approach but didn’t know if it would come from above or below. Swallow! Swallow! I closed my eyes and willed my body to obey.
It didn’t come easy, but finally the last of the pickle went down. I felt it slide like liquidy slime down my throat and head toward the abyss of my stomach.
The instant it landed the world fell silent.
I dared to open my eyes and witness the ruin.
The day was gloriously sunny—not a cloud in the sky. Cars made their way lazily down the pristine road. The sun seemed to glint like winking lights off the freshly cleaned windows of nearby houses as passers-by greeted one another cheerfully.
Was it all a dream?
My stomach churned with the truth. The taste lingered in the back of my mouth, threatening to undo what was done.
I made my way hastily to the corner café and bought the largest drink on the menu. Ripping the lid off I tipped it back to chug the contents, but before I took my first drink, Granny’s face appeared in the pale liquid, smiling wide.
“I’m so proud of you!”
The End
If you’ve got an idea for a flash fiction story send it to me at author@jillndavies.com.
Tune in next week for more flash fiction.
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