Jacob's Font of Perspicacity

SCENE: A grand stone throne room. Towering statues of past monarchs line the walls in alcoves, most armored and armed for battle. Rows of lanterns, seemingly floating in midair, provide a deep purple light which fails to fully illuminate the huge room’s recesses. In the center, a throne is rigidly carved into an enormous stalagmite which thrusts up through the otherwise flagstone floor. Runic script twines around the tower of rock, and the ancient skull of some gigantic horned beast is impaled on its tip. Stone steps and a smooth walkway lead down from the throne to a simple wooden table awkwardly sitting in the room’s center. It is surrounded by several ordinary chairs and bears an unrolled map, an ornate orrery and two flagons. The floor and walls are intermittently marred with scuff marks and faint bloodstains, as if from a recent battle. AT RISE: OLORIN sits uncomfortably on the edge of the throne, wearing a flowing, verdant green cloak with a burnished gold clasp. His feet are ...

Oscar sat hunched over in his desk, his head propped up by a forearm. His palm had pushed up on his cheek to the point that it almost entirely obscured his right eye. His left eye stared absently at the hair-thin line of sunlight which peeked out from under the shade covering the classroom’s only window. This was the only portion of the classroom not plastered with inspirational posters sporting quotes from famous authors. Mr. Rivera was probably talking, but Oscar only heard the occasional drip of water from the faucet which someone hadn’t fully turned off. A brief interruption of the strip of sunlight by someone walking by outside was enough to jar Oscar out of his inattentive state. He pushed himself up and leaned back, stifling a yawn, and tried to make himself think about what Mr. Rivera was saying. Something about a culminating assignment for the unit, apparently. Oscar shuddered involuntarily at the memory of past essays for this writing class. He hadn’t been able to read a b...