STRONGHOLD

Longing for more creativity, I am leaning into the writing of my second fictional novel. I simply call it "Stronghold." Some of it is based on my lived experience, some of it isn't. In the story...

... A very sensitive King becomes oddly obsessed with a Plebeian in his Kingdom. The Pleb is a very good artist, and tends to be naturally liked by the masses. Even the King's wife has taken notice of him.

So, the King and Queen find a way to connect with the Pleb, in the hopes that he will use his skills to make them look better. The Pleb agrees, until he decides that he wants to be separate and disconnects. He doesn't do this because he looks down on the King and Queen. He does this because he misses a calmer creative life, with no ties to the political world.

Then the shit hits the fan. That he had the audacity to disconnect ignites the King's ire and frustrates his Queen. They just can't make sense of it. Everybody wants their attention. So, all of the King's horses and all of the King's men turn against the Pleb, devoting untold millions of gold pieces to destroying his creative life and defaming him personally.

Despite that, he continues to make art, even making art about the situation itself. This just angers the King and Queen even more. How dare he reject aristocracy, AND expose the events? Doesn't he know that he is just a lowly Pleb from a lowly village with nobody backing him? Doesn't he know that he has no rights beyond those that we grant him? Doesn't he know WHO we are?

The battlelines are drawn. On the one hand, some of the most materially powerful people in the world with strongholds at every turn. On the other hand, a lowly Pleb artist who has reached a stage in his life where he just wants to create things and make the world a better place. His faith in God and love of creation are his only strongholds.

In the last scene of the book, thousands of evildoers frenetically search the forest for the Pleb. He's going to pay for what he has done. Even those who love him have turned against him in order to protect themselves and gain the King's favour.

Soon enough, somebody finds him. He's sitting in a small clearing, painting a portrait of God himself.

The forces surround him, eager to strike their final blows. The Pleb can feel them close, but he doesn't look up. He has a painting to finish, after all. Just a few more brushstrokes, and the battle is won.

Treasure yourself, Jeff Brown

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