Onavina woke to the sounds of clashing swords and shouting men on the road that ran along her property. She sprung out of bed with an agility that even surprised herself. After throwing on a tattered robe she grabbed her cane and hobbled out the door of her home.
Down at the end of her pristinely-trimmed walkway, along the edge of the fence that surrounded her front yard, a skirmish was taking place between two small squads of soldiers. Some wore red, some bore green. She didn’t care who they were, as long as they stayed off her lawn.
It took her tired, aging frame several minutes to hobble to the end of the walkway where the gate still remained tightly shut. When she reached it, two men grappled within arms reach of the fence.
“You there!” she shouted at them.
The one in green turned in surprise and the one in red fighting him took advantage of this and ran his opponent through. Then he turned to Onavina.
“Get back in your house old crone! This is no place for you, this is a battle!”
“Do you see that sign posted there?” she replied calmly. She pointed at a wooden plank next to the gate.
The man looked shocked by her regard of him and after making sure he was in no danger from his enemies he came closer and read it aloud.
“No trespassing?” he scoffed. “You crazy old woman, you want to die, that’s your problem.” And he turned back to the battle.
Onavina lifted her cane a few inches from the ground then tapped it to the stone tile of the walkway. An ear-shattering thunderclap filled the area and stopped the battle in an instant.
“Now that I have your attention,” Onavina said to all the men, gesturing to her sign. “This sign here? I posted it. This is my property, and I don’t want any of you on it. Go take your war elsewhere.”
After a long pause, three dozen men all looked at each other and started to laugh.
After a few moments of this, they remembered their squabble. One of them shoved another so hard they broke through her fence.
Onavina’s eyes went wide with anger.
And then came the fire from her cane as she burned the trespasser to ash, thus sending almost three dozen men away screaming.
(The word prompt today was “Post-It.”)