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The Island – A Serialized Dystopian Story * Chapter Five 

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1–2 minutes

Haven’s Reach: The Vanishing Voices

The island was quieter now. Too quiet.

After the whispers of resistance spread through hidden gatherings, Brant Harrow and his Council acted swiftly. 

One by one, the most outspoken citizens began to disappear. A fisherman dared to complain about rationing. A mother had asked too many questions at the weekly assembly. A teacher was rumored to keep forbidden books. They were gone.

No public trials. No explanations. Only empty chairs at family tables and unlit lanterns where homes once glowed in the night. The Council claimed these people had “chosen exile.” But no one had ever seen the boats return. Children asked where their neighbors had gone, and parents whispered a single warning: 

Don’t ask too loudly.

For those who remained, the silence was deafening. 

Even the ocean seemed to hush its waves against the shore, as if the island itself held its breath. Fear kept voices low. In the dark corners of Haven’s Reach, a few brave souls began to wonder. If the voices of truth were vanishing, who would speak for them when the Council came knocking next?

By Benjamin GroffMedia© | benandsteve.com | ©2025 

The Island – A Serialized Dystopian Story * Chapter Four 

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1–2 minutes

Haven’s Reach: Whispers in the Dark

By the time autumn winds swept across the island, Brant Harrow’s “First Rules” had been etched into daily life. They weren’t written on parchment or stone, but repeated so often that they became second nature.

“No theft, no violence, no waste, no words outside the Council.”

At first, the people complied out of respect. Later, they complied out of habit. And slowly, they began to comply out of fear.

It started small. A fisherman’s wife was overheard criticizing the Council for rationing nets unfairly. Days later, her family’s hut was mysteriously stripped of its lantern oil. Her husband’s catch was rejected at the communal market. There was no official punishment or public decree. It was just a quiet reminder of who held sway.

Families learned to whisper in the dark, if they whispered at all. Children were warned not to repeat what their parents said at home. Laughter around the fire grew more careful, guarded, as though shadows themselves carried ears.

Yet not all were cowed. A young teacher named Elara began meeting secretly with her students in the caves near the shoreline. She reminded them of the island’s first days. During those times, the people worked freely together. Voices rang out with no fear of reprisal. She called it 

“The Memory.”

“Don’t let them take The Memory from you,” 

She urged. 

“Because when the memory dies, so do we.”

Above them, in the Council chamber, Brant Harrow and his circle drew lines on a map of the island. They were dividing it into districts. 

“Control the land,”

He muttered, 

“And we control the people.”

Unseen and unspoken, the first embers of resistance flickered in Haven’s Reach.

By Benjamin GroffMedia© | benandsteve.com | ©2025 

Eldoria’s Shattered Crown: A Tale of Courage and Redemption

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The Knight and the Shattered Crown

The kingdom of Eldoria lay beneath a shadow. Once filled with music, trade, and the bright laughter of children, its streets had grown silent. A great dragon, black as midnight and wreathed in fire, had descended from the northern mountains. With its arrival, the crown of the king—the source of Eldoria’s unity and prosperity—was shattered into three pieces. These pieces were scattered across the land. Without the crown, the kingdom faltered, its people divided, its armies weakened.

But hope was not lost.

The Oath

Sir Alaric of Bindenvale was no stranger to hardship. He was a knight forged in battles and tempered by loyalty. He was summoned to the king’s side as illness gnawed at the ruler’s strength. The king’s voice was weak, but his eyes burned with command as he entrusted Alaric with a quest: 

“Find the three shards of the crown. Restore it, and our kingdom will live again.”

Alaric bowed deeply, vowing to see the quest through or perish in its pursuit. Armed with his blade, Lion’s Fang, and guided by his unyielding faith, he rode forth.

The Trials

The first shard was said to lie in the Forest of Whispers, guarded by spirits of the old world. There, Alaric endured visions meant to unseat his courage—faces of fallen comrades, echoes of failures long past. But he pressed on, offering words of honor instead of fear, and the spirits relented, gifting him the shard.

The second shard rested in the Abyss of Cindral, a labyrinth of fire and stone. Alaric fought creatures born of molten rock and endured heat that melts steel. At the abyss’s heart, he found the shard embedded in stone, pried free by his resolve rather than brute strength.

The third shard was the most perilous: it lay in the dragon’s lair itself. Alaric faced the beast, its scales impenetrable and its fire endless. Yet he recalled the oath he had made—not to defeat the dragon, but to save the kingdom. Using wit, he lured the beast into a trap of crumbling stone. This gave him just enough time to seize the final shard.

The Return

Weary but unbroken, Sir Alaric returned to Eldoria. The shards were reforged by the kingdom’s smiths into the Crown of Unity. As it was placed once more upon the king’s brow, light returned to the realm, driving back the dragon’s shadow. The people of Eldoria cheered. They celebrated not merely for their crown. They honored the knight whose courage and humility had bound them together once more.

Sir Alaric never sought glory, only service. Yet in taverns and halls for generations to come, his story was told. It was the story of a knight who saved a kingdom not through conquest. Instead, he saved it through honor, sacrifice, and faith.

By Benjamin GroffMedia© | benandsteve.com | 2025 

The Cat Who Became King: Whisker’s Tale

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GROFF MEDIA 2024© TRUTH ENDURES IMDBPRO

Presented by benandsteve.com By: Benjamin Groff II©s

2–3 minutes

“Whisker the Magnificent: The Cat Who Became King”

In the grand kingdom of Eldoria, mighty kings and queens ruled vast lands. No one ever expected their next ruler to be ––– a cat.

It all began when King Aldric, the last of his line, passed away without an heir. The kingdom was chaotic, for the noble families all vied for the throne. Arguments broke out, alliances crumbled, and the land teetered on the brink of war.

Amid this turmoil, a small, scruffy cat named Whisker roamed the royal palace. He had been the late king’s favorite pet. Whisker was a feline of unusual intelligence. His golden eyes seemed to see into a person’s very soul. Whisker spent his days lazily lounging on the throne as if he already owned it.

One day, the nobles gathered to decide the fate of the kingdom. The council was about to descend into another shouting match. Then Whisker leaped onto the great table and let out a commanding “meow.”

The room fell silent.

The royal advisor, an old and wise man named Cedric, chuckled. “This cat would make a better ruler than squabbling fools.”

The nobles laughed, but then a curious idea took hold. Whisker had lived in the palace for years, witnessing political games and royal affairs. He had a knack for knowing which people were trusted, often hissing at schemers and rubbing against the kind-hearted. What if –– what if fate had chosen him?

The High Priest of Eldoria, known for interpreting omens, declared, “The gods often choose the least expected. This feline is their will made manifest.”

And so, as a jest at first, they crowned Whisker with a tiny golden circlet. But what began as a joke soon became a tradition. Now known as –– King Whisker the Magnificent ––, he was placed on the throne. His presence alone brought peace, for no noble dared question his rule—after all, who argues with a cat?

Of course, Whisker did not speak, but he ruled in his way. When matters of state were brought before him, he would purr to show approval. If he disapproved, he would flick his tail and walk away. If a noble displeased him, he would swat their hand with his paw. Soon, even the most corrupt learned to fear his judgment.

Under King Whisker’s reign, Eldoria flourished. The land was peaceful, trade thrived, and justice prevailed. The people adored their feline ruler, leaving out bowls of milk and fish in tribute.

Years passed, and when Whisker finally passed into legend, a statue was erected in his honor, inscribed with the words:

“He ruled with wisdom, claw, and whisker.”

And so, Eldoria remained a land where, for one golden age, a cat had indeed been king.