(So, after totally bolloxing up the original entry, here is the one that follows the guidelines (sort of). It's approximately 2650 words according to MSWord. Enjoy and vote!)
Tuesday, November 8th, 2016
Morty stood at the top of the steps, between the pillars, looking up at the larger than life marble statue of the Khan of Khans. He was the man born with the name Temujin but known to the world and beyond as Genghis Khan. The play of light and shadow of the cavernous building seemed to only highlight the details of the reclining Khan's features, so adeptly captured by the master artists that created it.
Turning to look over the Genghis Khan Memorial Reflecting Pool, over half a kilometer long, he breathed deeply of the clean air. With no heavy industry within 100 kilometres of the capital of the Khanate of the Americas, and the seat of power of the Khanate of Earth, it was an idyllic place for both politics and families.
At the far end of the reflecting pool was The Obelisk. It was a massive granite tower, topped with an Asiatic carving of a flying horse, the symbol of the family and descendants of Temujin. After drinking in the impressive sight for a few minutes, Morty glanced at this timepiece and then headed over to the bicycle racks. He hated that motorized vehicles were not allowed for the peasant population in the exclusion zone around the Potomac River and Temujin City, but when in Rome ...
It only took him twenty minutes to ride his bicycle over the Potomac River bridge and up the causeway to the rest area. From there the footbridge took him over to Khan Roosevelt Island where he was supposed to meet Pliny Salatar, his apprentice. Morty recognized a few people as he walked along, nodding in greeting and exchanging a few pleasantries. He finally sat on the edge of the fountain in the small courtyard on the island and waited for his protégé ... who was late again.
A pushcart vendor approached and waved at Morty who smiled and stood. Morty was feeling peckish; some yak kabob would be a nice treat. He also got a small disposable cup of thickened goat milk with chives and tarragon to dip the meat in. As he enjoyed his treat (he got two kabobs), he saw the scurrying figure heading towards him, tripping a small child in his haste. The figure stopped and fell to his knees to apologize profusely to the irate father who had drawn his short sword when his child screamed. The apology was, apparently, heartfelt and honest enough because Pliny arose with his head still attached.
Hurrying towards his master, Pliny tripped once more but only over his own feet this time. Morty sat there patiently chewing on the last of his roasted yak-on-a-stick as Pliny pranced and howled in pain at the wounds on his twice-skinned knees.
"Master," Pliny finally offered a greeting as he wiped the last of the tears from his face.
"Your clumsiness distresses me, Pliny. You must show greater care. That Sain humun almost made two of you with his sword."
To his credit, Pliny said nothing. He just stood before his sensai, wrapped his purple apprentice robe tighter around his slender body, and looked down at his own sandaled feet.
With a heavy sigh, the white-haired and well-bearded man stood and began walking; Pliny fell into step beside him.
"Tell me, Pliny, does any of this seem right to you?"
After a pause and a quick look along the path they were walking on, Pliny turned to the elder man, "Master, it appears to be as it always has."
"Yes," Morty drew out the words, "but it is not as it should be."
"What isn't, Master?"
"Everything, Pliny, every damn thing."
"Master, you're scaring me."
