The Blog Propellant · writing

TBP New Prompt #1- Allegory



Prince Preston set his Daughter, Princess Imogen, on the saddle in front of him. “Today’s a big day for you, Immy,” he said, “Today we set out on a quest for the monsters. I need to introduce you to them one by one, just as my father did for me when I was your age.”

“Monster’s, Dad? Should I be frightened?”

“Not at all, Princess for the most part, the monsters are our friends. They protect our kingdom from foreign invaders and ensure that the press reports only the truth.”

The pair set off with a full entourage including; soldiers, cooks, nannies, cartographers, fools, and other consorts. Prince Parson’s plan was to head North first, then work around in an anti-clockwise direction. He would introduce Imogen to each of the monsters who patrolled the perimeters of the kingdom.

These included Persephone to the North, Germsnake in the West, Trancemouth in the South, and The Donald. The Donald who is ‘Keeper of the Eastern Purlieus of the Kingdom of Hoi Polloi.’ During the journey, Prince Presley regaled Imogen with tales and stories of the monsters.

“I expect that first, we will encounter Persophone,” he told her, “She is a dreadful and terrifying green-skinned being, but she has a gentle soul. Most imposing, she is taller than a tree, and when opening her mouth to roar she reveals hundreds of long razor sharp teeth used to slice our enemies to ribbons. It’s been aeons since anyone attempted to invade Hoi Polloi from the north. She likes kittens and could eat six score in a single bite. She’ll like you, I’m certain,” and she did. Persophone and Imogen got along famously and even built a treehouse where they could take tea.

“Next we will find Germsnake, in the west. When I was a lad, I used to sneak away from the castle. I would come to play with Germsnake. He has always been my favourite. As his name implies, he is a serpent. A five headed serpent whose bite is laced with deadly venom and whose scales are coloured a mottled brown and ecru. I would trust him with my life. I would trust him with your life. In the wars of Oh-Four, I watched him single-handedly repel 10,000 invaders from what used to be the Kingdom of Texas that lay along our Western border, but after Oh-Four Texas was annexed by Hoi Polloi.”

Germsnake was smitten by the princess and immediately asked her father, Prince Pomeroy, for her hand in marriage; but the prince said that she was too young. Germsnake vowed to try again in a few years.

“Trancemouth is the third monster who guards the Southern frontier. She is a vixen, a beautiful maiden with coffee coloured skin who used to lure sailors onto the rocks before coming to work for my father, King Kenny the Just. She can hypnotize our enemies with the sound of her voice and tell stories to entrance all listeners. She reasons with invaders and convinces them of the folly of war with Hoi Polloi. She is also fond of fruitcake. In fact, last year she presented your mother and me with a very large rum soaked fruitcake for our Christmas.”

“We never ate that cake, Da.” Princess Imogen pointed out.

“Right you are, girl,” he answered her as he poked the dimple that was centred in her chin. “And, we never will. Fruitcake is vile and disgusting. We will re-gift that this Christmas.”

After a polite and cordial visit, Pumpernickel and Imogen left the company of Trancemouth and headed towards the East to meet The Donald.

As they travelled Pantomine told his daughter about the final monster, “The Donald is the most frightening of all the monsters. He surrounds himself with minions who do his bidding and praise him. He is covered with an orange outer wrapping, that one must suppose is skin, and has hair that even wise men are unable to explain. He cannot be trusted, but he can be bought. He is the one to whom we will re-gift the fruitcake because he likes that kind of stuff. We hope that it will keep him pacified for at least another month. I shudder to think of what might happen if it doesn’t work. Then I remember the other three faithful monsters. They who serve the people of Hoi Polloi and seem to posses a genuine affection for you. I believe that, if necessary, the good people of Hoi Polloi, our three trusted protectors, and our armies could defeat him; but it would not be an easy battle. Never allow yourself to be caught alone in the company of The Donald.”

Author’s Note: The work above is a slightly reworked version of a post I wrote several years ago. In these days it seems appropriate. Does it count as allegorical, Ms Rose?



This week’s prompt:

Literary devices highlight important concepts in a text, strengthen the narrative, and help readers connect to the characters and themes. Some might work on an intellectual level, while others have a more emotional effect. They may also work to improve the flow and pacing of your writing.

Use Allegory in your story, character sketch or poem.

(from reedsy.com): In an allegorical story, things represent more than they appear to on the surface. Many children’s fables, such as “The Tortoise and the Hare,” are simple allegories about morality — but allegories can also be dark, complex, and controversial. Example: “Animal Farm” by George Orwell is a commentary on the events leading up to Stalin’s rise and the formation of the Soviet Union.


OLWG · writing

OLWG# 186- Three Guys Walk Into a Bar

Written for OLWG#186



Patrick and Pete are in their local sippin’ on pints. There’s a couple ‘a fellas tossing arrows at the back. Mary’s workin’ the bar. It’s quiet ‘cept for Van Morrison softly singing about snow in someplace called San Anselmo over the speaker mounted high in the corner near the front.

Patrick says to Pete, “Pete, didja hear the one ‘bout the three guys? An Englishman, an Irishman and a Poet walk into a bar …”

“That’s only two.”

“Whatcha mean, that’s only two?”

“Think ya heard me Pat. I said that’s only two.”

“Two what?”

“Two guys.”

“No, it’s three. An Englishman is one. An Irishman is two, and the Poet; well the Poet is the third. Right?”

“Nah, the Poet is the Irishman. I never met an Irishman who wasn’t a Poet. Have you, Pat?”

Patrick watches Mary leanin’ on the bar for a couple minutes. The neon light flashing on and off through the window her heavy breasts resting cross her forearm Then he looks at his beer for a time.

“That queers the whole joke then. I can’t tell the joke if only two guys walk into the bar.”

“Change it up then.” Pete says.

“How?”

“Maybe make ‘em an Englishman, a Poet, and a Mexican? Or a Swede? How ‘bout a ‘Merican?”

Pete hears the thunk of a dart hitting the board in the back. He turns his attention to Mary as she pushes a stray wisp of curly red hair behind her ear. Catchin’ her eye he points at his nearly empty pot, then at Pat’s. She straightens up and walks over as the boys finish their beers.

Mary watches Patrick gulping down the dregs in his glass, clears her throat and says, “Don’t matter where they’re from, Pat.”

“Ah, Mary; you don’t know what ye’re talkin’ ‘bout.”

“They could be from anywhere! They’s jist three guys. Jist three guys.” She scoops up the empty glasses and turns to go fill them.

Pat shrugs on his coat and is shuffling towards the door. Mary turns just as he pulls the door open, two pints of beer in her hands.

“Pat,” she warbles, “where ya goin’? I gotcher drink right here.”

He pulls his cap on his head and walks out to the street.

“There goes the poet, then.” Says Pete.



This week’s prompts were:

  1. girls lit by neon
  2. don’t pray for me
  3. An Englishman, an Irishman, and a Poet