My Damsel in Distress, Part 2
(Sheila, Sean, and I are 11, playing in an abandoned rowhouse in Brooklyn, before fantasy books and movies became popular.)
The next Saturday, Sheila told us stories from the shopping bag of chapter and picture books she’d brought, along with materials for our costumes—Helen of Troy, Achilles, and Hector; Maid Marian, Robin Hood, and the Sheriff of Nottingham, and more. Sean and I had been doing Batman and the Penguin, so we were mesmerized by these stories and characters, but most of all by Sheila, a Wendy to our Lost Boys. The stories she chose all had a central girl, fighting between two men, and some had damsels in distress. Sean and I chose The Once and Future King.
“Let’s make you a Guinevere outfit, Sheila,” I said.
Sheila cut, hand-stitched, and pasted one of her mother’s white slips into a gown, with a paper doily lace collar. I made her a crown from a cookie can, folding down the edges so it wouldn’t cut her, while Sean made a scepter from rebar and Christmas tinsel.
As soon as Sheila put on her costume she said to me, “King Arthur, I no longer love you. My heart belongs to brave Sir Lancelot.”
She’d made me the villain again, but I instantly saw the opportunity; Sean was thrilled to be the hero. Deepening my voice and waving my sword threateningly, I pronounced, “You are my queen and mine alone. If I cannot have you, no one can. I sentence you to burn at the stake.”
Waving his sword, Sean shouted, “Shiver me timbers, you no good dirty dog you.”
“Not yet, Sir Lancelot,” Sheila said patiently. “You ride in at the last minute to rescue me.”
“Second floor is my Kingdom,” I told Sean. “You’re on the third floor.”
Sean went upstairs and I pointed my sword at Sheila. “Kneel, Queen Guinevere. Pray for your sin of coveting, that God forgive ye.”
She threw back her head, looking down her nose at me. “Love is not a sin. You are the one who should be praying for your cold and wicked soul, King Arthur.”
She looked so pretty in her gown and spoke just like I imagined Guinevere. To stay in character, I was especially tough. “You must die a gazillion deaths!” I grabbed her arm and pulled her into the hallway. I stood her against the thick dark wood column that supported the banister. I tied her waist to the column with electrical wire, and her hands together behind it. I piled some pieces of sheet-rock at her feet.”
“My noble Lancelot shall rescue me from your mean clutches, Arthur. But sometimes evil wins the day. If I should die today, I die pure of heart and clean of soul. The angels surely will take me into their arms and leadeth me to heaven.”
“Guinevere, perhaps God can forgive you, but I cannot. Surely, thou must perish in the fiery flames.” That was the signal for Sean. He must have been building up a head of steam, because he bounded down the stairs and without a word began banging my sword and shield. Usually we took turns, back and forth, up and down the stairs. Now, he banged so hard on my garbage can lid, my wrist was getting bruised and I almost stumbled down the stairs. Sheila must have seen I was getting scared and called to me, “Oh noble King, please don’t kill Lancelot. I love him so. If you will let him go, I will do anything you ask.”
“All right, Lancelot. I forgive you both. You may have the Queen,” I said, untying Sheila. “Both of you, leave my Kingdom and never show your faces again.”
Sean put Sheila behind him on the horse—a broom with eyes painted on a paper bag head, riding through each room of my castle to rub in his victory.
I'd lost the legendary battle and damsel, but was thrilled to be real-life Sheila McKinnon's captive heart.
[to be continued.]
My Damsel in Distress, Part 2 m/f
This story is amazing. It's great how you were able to get into character, cosplaying and roleplaying and acting out damsel in distress and rescue stories. I really enjoy this story and I'm looking forward to seeing more! 
