In the March edition of the Metal Earth Newsletter, they issued a challenge to not only capture a creative photo, but also to write a short story for the photo (or photo for the story, depending on your perspective).

I decided to take this opportunity to do a collaboration with my older two kiddos. I came up with an idea for a creative photo, and a basic outline of a story, and they helped me write the story. We had a lot of fun, and they gave me a lot of input. And obviously, I had a lot of fun creating some set pieces for the photo, as well as pulling out some of my old photo editing chops to compose the resulting photos.

So, without further adieu (or rambling), here is the short story:

◈ ◆ ◈ 1437 A.D. ◈ ◆ ◈

The day has finally come. I may still need a crate to fully see myself in this stupid mirror, but the day has come. I’m finally old enough to leave with the soldiers when they pass through town this year. I’m going to go to the academy and train to be a warrior.

I will get a real sword; a sharp and elegant weapon. Not this dull, plain, old blade I’ve practiced with. I will be trained by the best of the best in all the styles of fighting. I will grow taller and stronger than even the strongest in this boring old town I live in. I will dominate the battlefield and rise to the top. My enemies will cower in fear at the mere sight of my unsheathed sword. My fellow warriors will clamor to be my friends, and they will celebrate my every accomplishment. My rivals will fade into my shadows. Men will come from near and far to learn from my brilliant strategies.

I will travel across the kingdom as I lead the expansion and growth of the mighty empire. I will visit the tops of the highest mountains, the shores of the deepest waters, and cross the most desolate of deserts. I will be feared from the East to the West, and admired from the North to the South. Men will buy me drinks whenever I stop to rest, and women will bring me the delicious delicacies they serve only to the most honored of men.

I will reap the rewards of my success with wealth and fame. I will have more money than I will know what to do with. I will buy the most luxurious home and fill it with the most precious spoils of my travels. There will be nobody to tell me what to eat, or when to eat, or that I can’t have the things that I desire. I will be in charge of my life and what I do with it. I will be free!

I return from my daydream and take my last look in the mirror, admiring my shiny new armor, and I begin to feel dizzy. I shake my head a little and look back to the mirror. A brilliant flash of light bursts out of it, bright as lightning and yet I hear no thunder. I blink my eyes several times, trying to clear my vision, but when it comes I see myself, but not myself, in the mirror. I’m taller, I’m older, and my armor is plain and dull…

◆ ◈ ◆ 1463 A.D. ◆ ◈ ◆

The day has finally come. I may have needed help getting this old armor on, but the day has come. I’m finally back home, ready to enjoy my retirement. It’s been a long journey, I’ve fought hard, and I’ve earned this. I’m getting that long-needed break I’ve been dreaming about.

No more getting up before sunrise for morning exercises. No need to stay up late, sharpening my blade to the light of a dying fire. No more duels, no more pointless practice of fighting methods I’ll never use. I’ll be able to sleep in again, like I did when I was young. I’ll get to take naps and have nobody bothering me to solve their problems. I won’t have to wonder which of my friends will die in battle each day. I will be able to go to sleep without wondering if I’ll wake up with the sword of my event at my throat.

No more marching for days at a time. No more sleeping on rocks or sticks, or in the mud. No more scorching sun, or unending rain. No more bitter cold and blinding blizzards. I will be able to enjoy the predictable weather of my dear old village. I will come home to the same bed, the same rooms, the same expectations every night. I will have actual walls, and a real roof over my head every night. My sleep won’t be disturbed by the sudden cries of agony that come from the healers tents. Oh how nice it will be to stay in one place, to settle in and rest.

I will enjoy the freedoms I’ve missed for so long. To eat a slow and relaxed breakfast of anything other than gruel or hard tack. To own more than what I can carry on my back. To spend my riches, little as they may be, on something worthwhile, something that will last. To not have to worry what the price of tea will be at the next stop along the unending trail that we called war.

I look up into the mirror, wanting to make sure my armor is straight for this last day, and a wave of dizziness grows within me. An uneasy feeling of familiarity washes over me as a sudden, brilliant flash of light blinds me. As my vision clears, I find myself looking at myself, but not myself, in the mirror. I’m younger, I’m shorter, and my armor is so colorful and shiny…

◈ ◆ ◈ 1437 A.D. ◈ ◆ ◈

In confusion, I look down and confirm that my new armor is indeed red and gold. I look back up into the mirror, and the man looking back at me is still wearing dull silver armor. And he’s tired. Like, bone-weary, seriously, old-man tired. I tilt my head to the side, and he tilts his at the same time. Is this really happening?

I slowly reach up, bringing my hand forward, and the me-but-not-me in the mirror matches me, millimeter for millimeter. As our hands grow closer together, I feel a strange energy, almost a buzzing, in my fingertips. I know it’s silly, but I feel this need, this urge, to check if the mirror glass is still there…

◆ ◈ ◆ 1463 A.D. ◆ ◈ ◆

Is this mirror-me really standing on that silly crate I used to need? How long has it been since I stood upon it? And such garish colors! What had I been thinking, asking for such an extravagance? I raise my hand up to my face, and it is garbed in the same old silver I’ve been wearing for some time now. Somewhat unsurprisingly, the strange doppelganger in the mirror has raised his colorful gauntlet to his own eyes. I turn my hand around and wave at my younger twin, as he waves back at me, motion for motion, perfectly in sync.

I guess I’ve finally lost my mind. It figures. I’m finally going to get some rest, but I won’t be able to enjoy it; I’ll be too crazy. I’ll be the village’s crazy old man. I don’t want to be the crazy old man. Impulsively, I reach out to touch the mirror, feeling a tingling in my fingertips as I naively check the glass…

◈ ◆ ◈ 1437 A.D. ◈ ◆ ◈

My fingertips make contact with his fingers, red meeting silver…

◆ ◈ ◆ 1463 A.D. ◆ ◈ ◆

Our hands pivot as our palms come into contact, his small gauntlet pushing back against me with equal strength…

◈ ◆ ◈ 1437 A.D. ◈ ◆ ◈

The buzz is growing stronger and stronger…

◆ ◈ ◆ 1463 A.D. ◆ ◈ ◆

The tingling is moving farther and farther up my arm…

◈ ◆ ◈ 1437 A.D. ◈ ◆ ◈

Suddenly, I feel as if I’m moving, rushing forward…

◆ ◈ ◆ 1463 A.D. ◆ ◈ ◆

…as the sound of a strong wind builds around me…

◈ ◆ ◈ 1437 A.D. ◈ ◆ ◈

…rising into a loud crash of thunder…

◆ ◈ ◆ 1463 A.D. ◆ ◈ ◆

…violently throwing me away from the shattered mirror…

◈ ◆ ◈ 143? A.D. ◈ ◈ ◈

I raise my hand to my head; something is wrong…

◆ ◆ ◆ 14?? A.D. ◈ ◈ ◈

…this gauntlet… it’s not the right color…

And that’s it. I guess it’s more a teaser than a short story. But it was fun, nonetheless. If you are curious about how I created the photos for this contest, here are the base photographs I took and then combined to create the end results:

Also, if you want to know about the Newsletter Contests as soon as they are announced, sign up for the Metal Earth Newsletter here.