In the village of Milvus, all the children flew kites.  In fact, the kite was the most prized possession a child had.  The village held monthly kite-flying competitions, and one boy in particular would win all of them.  His name was Prospero.  This year, the village planned to hold a kite competition on summer solstice, the biggest of the year. It was called the Provident Kite Competition.

On the morning of summer solstice, all of the boys and girls gathered in the fields of the village with their kites.  A web of plastic, fabric, and paper bounced across the meadow.  If one walked far enough, one would notice that the edge of the wide fields dropped suddenly into a foaming deep sea.  The children fiddled around with their kite strings and made sure everything was safe and secure while waiting for the signal to sound.

If one were to examine the kites on the field, one could easily spot a flamboyant purple kite, trimmed with gold lace.  The kite, owned by Prospero, sparkled and danced under the sun.  If one looked still closer, one would notice a simple but bright yellow kite next to the purple one. It  reflected the sun’s smile plainly but happily.  The owner of this kite was Superent, Prospero’s best friend.  They pasted stoic expressions and heavy lips on their faces, but inside, their hearts brimmed with anticipation and adrenaline.  Together, they walked into the heart of the battlefield.
Finally, a voice boomed over the dingy speakers.

“Welcome to the first annual Provident Competition of Kite-flying!  I am proud to be hosting the biggest and most prestigious competition of the year!  This competition will run through the whole day, and the weather and wind seems to be in our favor!  The winner will win the best kite in the village, money, and high honor for a week.”

The speaker paused.  Then, as if an afterthought, a whisper: “Let’s see if anybody can beat Prospero this year.”  The voice behind the microphone laughed lightly. A murmur ran like wildfire through the gathered crowd of villagers.

“Now, we will start on the count of three.  Contestants, get ready.”  Kites rustled and feet pawed nervously at the grass as the adrenaline started to burn through their veins.

“Three. Two. One. Go!”

The field erupted.  One by one, the kites soared into the sky.  A momentary truce between kite and sky prevailed as the kites struggled to find their center of balance.

Then, all havoc broke loose.  Kites tangled with kites, and kites cut the strings of other kites.  One by one, kites fell from the sky.

By noon, more than half of the kites had fallen, and the kids with fallen kites watched the others kite-fly from the airy outskirts of the meadow.  The sun laughed and birds chirped between the leaves, safe from swooping kites.  Suddenly, something disappeared.

The leaves stopped rustling, and all of the kites started to totter, some drifting down slowly, others plummeting straight down into the sea.  The kids with kites still aloft tried desperately to keep them up.  Some succeeded and some failed.  Prospero’s kite managed to stay in the air, and he ran back and forth across the meadow, desperate for the wind to come back.

Finally, the wind took a few steps back and launched forward at full speed, saving Prospero from the fall.  But the wind’s arms whipped back too strong, and it ripped the spool out of his hands.  Prospero belched out a cry of horror and watched the kite tumble up, up, and away towards the rippling waters of the sea.  His friends heard his cry and chased after it with him.  Finally, a little boy got ahold of the spool, and offered it back to Prospero, trying to impress him with his swiftness of foot.  However, Prospero didn’t seem to notice.  Inwardly he was grateful, but he gave no outside sign of gratitude as his gaze focused on his retrieved kite.

After little twitches, snips, and flutters of fortune, other kites sank down, one after another, until only two kites reigned the sky.  Prospero's kite and Superent's kite.

The crowd slowly saw the situation and edged closer to the two kite-fliers standing in the meadow.  At first they kept quiet, watching curiously as the kites dipped and dived, dipped and dived.  However, as the suspense flew up and intensity buzzed in the air, the crowd started to chant.

Prospero glanced over at Superent, who was on the other side of the field.  He was surprised to see Superent looking back at him.  The best friends held their stares, trying to figure out what the other was thinking.  Then, they slowly turned their gazes back on their treasure.

The crowd grew louder.

“Prospero! Prospero! Prospero, Prospero, Prospero, go!”

The inhabitants of the village enveloped Prospero in waves of support.  But if Prospero heard them, he gave no indication.  He kept his back to the crowd.  As the crowd’s enthusiasm waned, the boy who had chased and retrieved Prospero’s kite cried, “Why don’t we cheer for Superent?  Prospero’s won enough already, let’s give Superent a chance!

A murmur rippled through the crowd.  That boy is right, said one.  Another mused, Prospero’s been too arrogant about his wins and fame; he needs to be cut down to earth again.  LET’S GO SUPERENT!

The people around the man began to echo and catch on.  The chant of a single person turned into a duet, then a harmony, then a choir, and then a booming melodious thunder.

LET’S GO SUPERENT! LET’S GO SUPERENT! LET’S GO SUPERENT!

Superent turned his head and smiled back at his village peoples.  Prospero took advantage of this and tried to sever Superent’s kite.  However, Superent was too quick.  Immediately realizing the crisis, he veered his kite away from Prospero’s just before contact.  The crowd cheered louder for Superent.  Prospero went for Superent’s string again.  However, Superent had improved over the last weeks, and he veered safely away again.  The two best friends grappled, each diving and aiming for the neck string of the other.  Prospero came close to severing Superent’s kite string, but Superent’s kite string was just too thick.  Prospero suddenly regretted flying his purple kite.  It had a very blunt cutting edge.

Gradually, as the crowd cheering for Superent grew louder and Prospero could not deal a quick and satisfying blow to Superent, Prospero grew frustrated.   Why aren’t they cheering for me? Prospero wondered with jealousy.  I, alone, am the king of the skies.  I must remind my villagers that I am king.

Riding the impulse of his emotions, Prospero let string run over his fingers, freeing his kite higher in the sky until it seemed as if his kite were going to disappear into the clouds.  But objects in the sky are closer than they seem.  Superent immediately recognized Prospero’s move as the perfect opportunity to move in.  As Superent’s kite head swerved towards Prospero’s kite string, Prospero immediately realized his mistake.  He pulled away from Superent’s kite and reigned in the string, but Prospero’s kite was too far away to control, and the string was at its tightest.  Its breaking point.

As Superent’s kite head closed in, Prospero realized he was doomed.  He watched painfully and helplessly as the micro-thin edge of Superent’s kite tapped Prospero’s beautiful but thin kite string.  With a zing, a twit, and a snap, Prospero’s kite string snapped apart. The kite plummeted down, down, down.  Just before it crumbled into the rippling sea, Prospero shielded his eyes.  As his kite sank into watery depths, Prospero himself sank deep, deep, and deeper to the ocean floor, the depths echoing with the deafening ocean of victorious cheers.