Wednesday, April 9, 2014

"Poor Gork" Inspired by 'Behind the Screen'

     Gork was quite short, even for a goblin. He couldn't run fast or jump high, and could barely lift the smallest boulder in the Rock Pile. As it was, they never let Gork in on the real fighting, and he was always stuck crewing the catapult. As Gork sauntered over to the mess hall for lunch, he idly fantasized about slitting the Chief's throat in his sleep and making off with his gold.
     Gork sat down at a crowded table with his meal. Rat stew, not bad.
     "'Ey Gork, I'll trade-ja me eyeballs fer yer tails," offered Rik, on of the larger goblins of the tribe.
     "Okay deal."
     Gork picked out two juicy rat-tails from his bowl and held them out for Rik. Rik snatched the tails from Gork's hand while Gork stared at Rik expectantly.
     "O wait, I ate all me eyeballs already!" Rik said through an ugly grin.
     The other goblins around laughed as Rik stuffed Gork's rat-tails into his mouth. Gork ignored them and turned back to his food. He should have known that would happen. After he finished he headed back to the warren to kill some time playing Sticks.
     "Guess what, Gork," came a voice from behind.
     Gork turned around and was met with Grak's large misshapen form. Grak wasn't good at much, but he was strong, and often served as the loader for Gork's catapult. Gork didn't particularly like Grak, but he didn't particularly hate him either.
     "Word is 'at we's in fer a big 'ol fight tomorrow!" Grak said excitedly. Something resembling a smile formed across his sagging visage. This cheered Gork up a bit. He knew he'd be back with the catapult, but he almost preferred it that way. He could watch the carnage unfold from a distance while heaping his own bit of chaos into the fray.
     "'zat so?" Gork asked. "Who izit?"
     "Humies," Grak responded "Chief wants da whole city dis time!"
     This was exciting new indeed. As Gork drifted off to sleep that night, visions of fire and blood played out in his head.

     "Keep um comin' Grak!" Gork shouted to the loader. The air was thick with smoke and dust as the goblin horde laid siege to the human city. Gork and his crew had been launching large rocks at the enemy defenses non-stop for some time now. Gork hoped the humans would break soon, his shoulders were beginning to ache from operating his war machine.
     "I 'ate bein' back 'ere" muttered Kor, the third member of Gork's crew. "I wanna stick me a humie!"
     "She's ready to go again, whatsa holdup?" Gork asked.
     "Uhhh, I think we's outta stuff to throw," Kor said, glancing around.
     Grak was standing still with a slightly puzzled look on his face, as if contemplating a great riddle.
     After a moment of silence, Grak said, "I think we's got one more thing to toss at dem humies."
     With that, he grabbed Gork by the arms and hefted him into the catapult before giving the release a solid tug, sending Gork soaring over the battlefield towards the enemy lines.


  1. Poor Gork! I like the use of dialogue. I could really imagine how they were speaking. How did you think of the name Gork?

  2. This story is really driven by the dialogue, and I think that the dialogue seems very fitting. Each of the characters has a distinct voice that suits him/her very well, which is important for readers so that they can distinguish between them.