Jared of the House of Filmore
Flash fiction
“I am Jared of the House of Filmore, and ’tis I who hath brought forth a device of great marvel, great wonder, great magnificence, and unmatched virtue, the likes of which hath ne’er been seen on God’s verdant Earth!”
“Bestow thine eyes upon it, good folk!”
“I dub it the mechanism that maketh bread toasted!”
“This wondrous contraption shall take a simple slice of bread and transform it, turning it to a perfect shade of brown upon both of its sides at once! In the very sight of thine eyes!”
“Ponder upon the morning’s repast! Is this not a cause for celebration? Is this not a miracle?”
“Ere thou shake thy head in disbelief, permit me to present thee a spectacle!”
“Thou, young lad in the rear! Approach hither forthwith!”
“Take yonder piece of bread and place it within the device right here. Well done, young sir. Now press yon button and marvel at the wonder!”
A quarter hour passes, and lo, the bread taketh flame, and the contraption bursts asunder!
The throng cries out in terror, proclaiming, “A warlock! He’s a warlock!”
“Nay, good people! A warlock I am not! Indeed, the device hath encountered a great malfunction! Fear ye not!”
Verily, Jared found himself in a grievous predicament and could not soothe the throng. He collected what remained of his contraption and endeavored to flee.
When lo and behold, a princess astride a steed of purest white made her appearance.
“Art thou the young Jared of the House of Filmore?!” quoth the Princess.
“Indeed, ’tis I! And pray, who art thou?!”
“I am Carol!”
“Carol?! Of what house dost thou hail, fair lady?!”
“Just Carol!”
“Verily then! Couldst thou assist me in fleeing this place ere this mob rends me asunder?!”
“Indeed, good sir! Approach swiftly!”
“Retreat! Begone, thou frenzied multitude! I spoke falsely. I am indeed a warlock! Imagine what powers I might wield against thee!”
The throng struck with terror, drew back from Jared of the House of Filmore, affording him just enough space to make his escape. With fierce resolve, he dashed to Carol, vaulted onto the horse, and they galloped away posthaste.
“How didst thou, fair Princess, come to know of me and mine dire need for deliverance?”
“Thou hast set ablaze my sister’s abode with thy former contraption. Thou art indebted to me. I have come to claim what is rightfully mine!”
Jared, overwhelmed by fear, wished to dismount from the horse.
“Ahh, Jared of the House of Filmore, ’twas but a jest. Relax and ease thy troubled heart. News of thy wondrous skills hath reached the ears of the king, who seeks a contrivance to rid our dwellings of the foul excrement.”
“Fair lady, thou art mistaken. Thou seekest Henry of the House Filmore, my brother.”
“He’s a plumber.”
Verily, it was Ralph of the House of Serpe who did pen this tale, yet for his knowledge of the Old English tongue was not of expert status, he beseeched the aid of ChatGPT.
