This was an assignment from my professor in my writing class. The idea was to tell a story of a time that was about 15 minutes, and to use as much vivid detail as you could to show the story, rather than tell it, in about 700-900 words. At any rate, this was a tale of part of my time at the celebrations at war, during Saturday night of this just past Labor Day weekend. At any rate, here you have it:


Raucous laughter, the ethereal light from glow sticks, strings of lights, and
the fire, alike blended together into the scene that was Carnívál at the Romani
camp at Petrero War. People drunk and those well on their way went about
playing obscure drinking games, laughing and conversing with other people, or joined the drum circle about the fire to dance, play drums, or maybe just watch. The firelight flickered over the drummers as their staccato beat led several women in their dancing. Some of them gypsies, probably, though it didn't really matter at that moment to me. Dancers were dancers, regardless of their camp.

Everyone wore their garb, of course. My tan tunic, the sleeves and neck
bordered with about four inches of blue cloth that was in turn embroidered with silver Celtic designs was tied at the waist by my black ring belt, which held my tankard, satchel, and leather pouch faithfully. I walked about in pig skin boots that my feet still aren't entirely used to with a lady whom I had been introduced to as another "war virgin." Us war virgins, being those who were attending their first SCA war. The SCA stands for the Society of Creative Anachronism; though most jokingly say that it stands for Sword Carriers of America. The wars, themselves, are large conventions of members, along the lines of renaissance faires (with the exception of most people's camping gear). My friends had been sure to force me enough drink to at least make me wind up developing a walk somewhat reminiscent to a certain Jack Sparrow. Ironically, my tongue was stuck with a British accent, all the while.

Nessa, the girl I met, was very pretty, and the main reason she and I had
been introduced was our mutual height. I never was able to tell what color her
eyes were, because of the dim lighting, but the rest of her I was able to make out well enough. She had beautiful straight black hair and I think I remember being told she was about six feet in height. She was slender, and she looked beautiful in her dress and bodice. Perhaps everyone in garb and that I'd had some drink was what had made me adopt the more gentlemanly side of myself in full, accent and all. After our introductions and such, we had some small talk about things ranging from books to music. She also had asked me whether my accent was real, and I admitted it wasn't, though I seemed unable to rid myself of it. At least that sort of accent didn't make me any less intelligible. We stood in silence for a little watching some of the women dancing to the music of the drums, and just letting the feeling of everything wash over us.

One of Nessa's friends, whom had been the one to introduce me to her
earlier on, came by and made sure that I was taking care of her and was seeing
how we were doing. She bade us drink and gave us the bottle that I'd seen her
carrying about and drinking from before. From what I remember someone
mentioning, it was tequila mixed with orange juice. A tequila sunrise, I think it's called, though that name never emerged at the time of drinking it. The alcohol made it's way through our systems, and I knew that I felt my balance that I'd hoped had started returning went back to wherever it had been hiding. I took a sip of water from my flask hanging at my side from a leather strap about my shoulder. It helped clean my pallet and I figured that it wasn't a bad idea to keep myself from getting dehydrated.

We strolled near one of the game booths, the first one that Blake and I
had gone to and he had then made me get imprisoned for losing, and I
remembered when I'd seen his red and black tunic disappear as he went among the crowd while I was taken to the blasted cell. All things aside, though, it had worked out well that I was with Nessa instead of having been sold due to my war virgin status. I slipped my arms around her in a loose yet affectionate embrace as I stood behind her, lightly resting my cheek upon her head as we listened to talk between people mostly from her camp We decided to head towards the camp, for Nessa said she needed hydration, though not in that wording. We started walking through the dust and bark, past the small table at the entrance to the camp, and our feet touched asphalt, the road that led towards the entrance of the park and our destination. The oaks cast great shadows in the moonlight, seeming almost like a toned down version of the heated day that had preceded the night. I asked her if she did much stargazing, for that night, even the dimmest of the gems in the sky seemed to be visible, and Orion was near the horizon. I looked to see if there were any other stars that I recognized as we walked along the barely lit road, the distant sounds of the drums and merriment reached up into the air, as if to be heard in some place far away, even if only able to be done through the written word.