Napoleon's height

A Story by Tejana

"Write a short fiction about a place or time in history where you would not want to be but end up suddenly"

I’m not in Canada anymore, but this weather feels Canadian. The wind is blowing into my face, my hands are frozen and I know that my jacket will not suffice. All I see is white. White hills, white lakes, all covered in over 2 feet of snow. This is a frozen wasteland and I have no sense of direction. I cannot see the sun and a pall of grey clouds is spread across the sky. I cannot make myself a shelter because I have no gloves, the land is barren and there are no trees in sight. I can hear a pounding noise. I am afraid but my heart cannot beat at such a magnitude. I can feel the ground shaking and my bodily fluids with it. Horses. Ten horses, 25 horses, a hundred horses, a thousand horses. There are men on these horses and they look fierce. Their jeers can barely be heard over the rumbling of horses. They are shouting and charging forward and those who fall are left behind and serve as a platform for those who wish to go forward. These men seek war.

“Arrêter!”, screams the man in front of this horde. He sheathes his sword and steps down from his horse. He shouts to the men and they reply with shouts of agreement. The man in front turns in response to my chuckles. I am in trouble. He looks to my direction, unsheathes his sword and makes his way toward me. Despite the seriousness of the situation, I couldn't help but laugh at a man near the height of a midget shouting at and leading a horde of fierce men on horses. Napoleon is shorter than I expected.