A writer's journey

the challenge

I looked up at the towering giant in front of me, and cold sweat soaked my back. His legs were thicker than tree trunks—each one looked like it could flatten a house. Even if I somehow wanted to fight this shameless bully, how on earth was I supposed to win?

I didn’t plan for this!

Why couldn’t they just take this so-called “seal of power” back? Wipe it off me and let me go home already!

My brain was in chaos, but I didn’t let it show. Within a split second, I came up with a way out of this madness.

I summoned what remained of my courage and tilted my head up—way up—until I could meet the bastard’s eyes. (That alone should tell you how tall he was.) I spoke clearly, with the authority I didn't have but was definitely pretending to:

“Who are you to challenge me? What business of yours is it if I’m the prince consort or not?”

Then I raised my chin high, almost poking the sky with my nose, and shouted for all to hear:

“If any of you feel my presence as the prince consort is a disgrace to the Green Spirit Clan—or the entire monster race—and you want to challenge me for the title, step forward now… or forever hold your peace!”

At first, only a few stepped forward. That wasn’t dramatic enough. So I added fuel to the fire:

“You all bark like you’re strong, but when the time comes, you cower like babies! And yet, you dare call humans weak? Hypocrites! Cowards wrapped in monster skins! You’re nothing more than turtles hiding behind your mothers’ skirts!”

I could feel the self-righteousness coursing through me like some holy spirit. I couldn’t believe it—me, John, challenging monsters to a duel… all just to survive marrying a d**k-headed she-beast.

Nice one, Author. You won this round.

And just like that, they all came charging out—more than two hundred eager monsters who were eligible bachelors. The rest of the crowd backed away fast, isolating them in the center like fighters in a ring.

They didn’t seem so eager now.

One particularly tall, broad-shouldered monster with deep blue skin stepped out. He was different. Unlike the others, his head was in the right place—on his neck. Thank God for small favors.

He had gold-colored eyeballs and weird vertical scars on both cheeks. The guy radiated pure danger.

“On behalf of the Blue-Skinned Warrior Clan,” he said, stepping forward with the swagger of a seasoned killer, “I accept your challenge. Pick a date, scrub your body clean, and prepare to die. Hmm.”

I didn’t let him finish before I shot back:

“Who said I’d be fighting you all by myself? If I accepted every random monster's challenge, I’d be exhausted by lunch.”

The first green monster narrowed his eyes. “Then why issue a challenge if you never intended to fight us all?”

I smirked.

“It seems some of you do have working brains, unlike a certain someone who’s been using his as insoles for his leg-slippers. Poor guy’s been thinking with his toes since birth…”

I tried baiting the blue monster into attacking me first—just so I could maybe get him disqualified or at least injured by the arena rules. But no luck. He didn’t fall for it.

“I challenged all of you so that I won’t have to deal with endless interruptions after every victory. I want to settle this once and for all—with a game.”

Just as I was about to explain my “game,” the green monsters suddenly parted to the sides and bowed in unison, chanting in a language I couldn’t understand:

“Dgydhohgfbh ghjtdghgd buff…”

Their synchronized chant echoed in the air before they dropped into a dramatic 360-degree bow. Only the blue-skinned ones gave slight nods—clearly not fans of public yoga.

Then I looked up.

And I saw something that shook me to my soul.

A bulky figure was… sitting… on a golden sedan chair carried by four muscular monsters. The thing looked like a throne fit for a god—ornate, bejeweled, wrapped in golden fabric. Pure royalty.

But that wasn’t the part that almost killed me.

No. The real challenge was not laughing.

Because the creature sitting on the throne—

Was the funniest, most ridiculously majestic abomination I’d ever seen in my life.

Every fiber in my body fought to keep a straight face. It was like being front row at a comedy show with a sniper rifle aimed at your forehead, waiting for the first giggle.

One laugh, and I’d be a corpse.