My Damsel in Distress, Part 4
[Sheila, Sean, and I are ten years old, playing in an abandoned building in Brooklyn.]
“Let's do a story where the girl sword-fights,” Sheila said.
I ran through the books I knew. “I don't think there are any.” She didn't like comics like Wonder Woman, but I wanted to please her. “We can do Robin Hood.”
“I play a boy?” she asked.
“Maid Marian.”
“There's no girl in 'The Adventures of Robin Hood,'” she said.
“In the movie, with Errol Flynn,” I said.
She thought books were more true to life, but said, “Okay.”
“You can have a sword for the scene where the Sheriff of Nottingham is going to hang Robin in the castle, and you rescue him.” I quickly called dibs, “I'm Robin.”
Sean didn't complain as he'd been Lancelot and Ivanhoe. Since Sheila'd kissed Sean on the cheek when he rescued her last time, I figured when she rescued me, she'd do the same.
Ever since Sheila joined us, my best friend Sean had become my rival. His easy-to-laugh ways, red-brown wavy hair, and freckled round cheeks, made him likable to boys and girls, and he wasn't even interested in having a magical connection with Sheila like I was. But she kept favoring him, driving me crazy.
My curly brown hair was shaggy and hung way over my collar, because my mother was too tired to cut it weekdays and too busy gossiping with her friends weekends. Sean and I were both athletic but not tough—why we preferred our clubhouse to the streets. I had to prove myself to Sheila. I, as the imaginative writer and magnetic actor, deserved her undying affections.
Sheila had brought brown and beige clothing she'd picked from a church donation box, and Sean and I cut while she sewed. We made a soft, pointy hat for Robin, cape for the Sheriff, and cloth boots to glue over all our sneakers. In our scariest mission ever, Sean and I had woke up early, sneaked into the Italian neighborhood, and broken three antennas off cars. With strings bowing them, they could shoot coat-hanger arrows, as well as serve as swords. Sheila and I wrote the script.
I drew a bulls-eye on the wall. Shaping my hands into a horn, I trumpeted. “Here ye, here ye. Robin Hood, the greatest archer in Sherwood Forest, has come to town to challenge the mean old Sheriff of Nottingham to a contest.”
Sean gave a deep laugh that made him cough. “I, the Sheriff, have shot more people than Robin Hood has shot deer.”
“Thou shootest men in the back,” Maid Marian said.
“Hah!” The Sheriff held his sword up and looked evil.
“May God carry your arrows to the target, Robin, “Maid Marian said. I shot my arrow across the room but it didn't even reach the wall. So Sean and I took turns throwing the arrows like darts. On about the tenth try I hit the outer circle of the bullseye. I threw up my hands. “Victory! Robin Hood proves once again, I am the best of all time.”
“I'm the Sheriff and you're the outlaw. I say you cheated and I'm going to hang you by the neck until you are dead as a door-nail.” Sean dragged me to the steam pipe that ran floor to ceiling. With the rope I'd stolen from a clothesline, he yanked my hands behind the pipe, tying them tight. He wrapped the rope up my arms pulling my elbows together, then tied my knees and feet. He wound a loop around my neck, tying it above my head to the pipe.
Sheila pulled out her antenna sword. “I will save the day, Robin. Sheriff, get ready to meet your Maker at the hands of a brave maiden.”
The Sheriff tore the string from his bow turning it into a rapier and hit Maid Marian's. She swung hard with two hands, but Sean was quicker. He smiled as he backed up the stairs, going easy, just holding her off.
“I got you!” Marian said.
“Just my arm,” the Sheriff said.
“You have to drop your sword,” she shouted.
Sean ignored her. “On guard!” His face looked the way it did when he fought me—he wanted to beat Sheila, and bad. He hit at her hard and she blocked it. He swung at her legs, but she jumped back.
It was only a matter of time before he hit her and made her cry. I had to get free to help her. I twisted around to see the knots on my hands and almost choked; I could barely move. I yanked my arms up and down behind me, forearms rubbing against each other. I felt the ropes loosen.
The Sheriff lunged, going for Marian's belly, but she pushed his sword aside and slapped his chest with her sword. “There!”
When Sean stared in disbelief, Sheila ordered him, “Fall down!”
Sean lay back on the stairs, and Sheila rushed to me, first untying the knot around my neck that was making me cough, then my arms and feet.
I announced to Sean, “Sheriff, you will stay chained in your own dungeon as we escape to Sherwood Forest.”
I tied the Sheriff's hands behind him tightly. I wrapped the rope around his ankles and pulled so his hands almost touched his ankles, tying a knot. I wrapped the rope high around the pipe several times and leaned back pulling, lifting his feet so he lay on the floor on his chest and face, arms up behind him against the pipe. I'd never seen a hogtie; I was just making it tough on Sean, to give me more time with Sheila.
Sean tried to pull loose, but the ropes tightened. He started bucking, and twisting. I got on my broom horse. “Hop on the back, Lady Marian.” When she did, I said, “Hug me so you don't fall off,” feeling her arms around my waist.
I rode to the door then dismounted. “Thank you for saving my life, Dear Marian.” I was holding my cheek out for her to kiss, when Sean gasped, “Aaah.”
Sheila turned and asked, “Are you okay, Sean?”
He had turned onto one shoulder, arms and legs twisted up behind him, his face in a grimace. She ran to him. “What?”
“Leg.”
“It hurts?”
“Yeah.”
Sheila tore at the knot at the pipe until it loosened and Sean slumped to the floor on his stomach, eyes clamped shut.
“It must be a cramp,” Sheila said. She rolled him over, still tied up, and rubbed first one thigh then the other.
“That one.”
She rubbed hard until he let out his breath and relaxed. She untied his hands and feet but he still lay flat on the floor.
She put her hand on his forehead as if checking for a fever.
Sean laughed and said, “Hoo. That was worse than when my brothers tie me up and leave me in the closet.” Sheila kissed his thigh, then his forehead.
She turned to me. “That was mean, Terry.”
I felt bad for pushing my one-way competition with Sean too far, but worse under Sheila's glare. I write the stories so Sheila's dreams of romance and sword-fighting come true, then Sean does nothing but get a cramp to get his thigh rubbed and two kisses.
I'm not giving up, but I'm out of schemes.
[to be continued.]
My Damsel in Distress, Part 4 m/m, m/m
Wow. That was very fun. I hope you did patch things up with Sheila later. Looking forward to the next part!
Great little tale. I guess both of them went a little too far on each other. But as long as the girl is there, I guess they won't stop competing like that 
I'm excited to see the next part of this story!