My King of Kings
1/1
“I see you, my darling, my beautiful queen.” In a large, richly decorated room there sat a man. He sat at a dark wooden, ostentatiously carved table gazing longingly out of a wide window with a filigreed grate fitted over it. The sun sat high in bright clouds, spilling into the wide window over the man’s still form. The filigreed grate cast a spidery shadow on the man’s beige jumpsuit and tired, wrinkled face. He looked to be in his sixties; the stress of a life once lived showed as salt grains in his dark, bushy beard.
Out the window, through the grate, over a river that sang in the sunlight there was a colossal stone building. It was brilliant in the light, seeming to wear the river as a diamond chain around its neck. The man stared at the building intensely. A cigar burned silently, caught in between the middle and index finger of his right hand. “You look as beautiful as you always have.”
He brought the cigar to his lips, took a long breath, blew a cloud of smoke through the grate. With a sigh, he brought the burning end of it down to be crushed in a thick, glass ashtray. And as the embers glowered, his eyes stared and his mind wandered…
“I see you, motherfucker, you piece of shit!” A much younger man brought a machine gun to rest on a windowsill, aiming at a building across a street littered with debris. The gun burst to life, enraged. Concrete and dust leapt out from the wall around the window across the street. Whoever lay beyond the opposing wall fired their machine gun. The young man who shouted curses was hit and fell back from the window with only half of a head.
Next to the body, a second young man choked back his cry of alarm. He couldn’t have been older than fifteen, without a hair on his smooth young face. Yet his eyes betrayed something much older and much fiercer. The glare of death, his father had called it. The boy has had death in his eyes all of his life, and was thereby drawn to it. He had the blood of a conqueror, his father had said, the conviction of an angel, and the eyes of a demon.
Violence was no stranger to his great mother country. Even before the written word was invented, warrior princes and bloodthirsty tribes roamed the land, spilling blood in the name of religion, land, and honor, always honor. This was merely another letter scrawled in the endless tomes of history, another struggle of warring brothers to be told by the survivors as they like.
Blood was still spilled in the name of religion and land, but the honor must have vanished somewhere in the fog of the eons.
Sweat dripped around the boy’s demon eyes as he moved, ducking under the window and racing from the room. In the stairwell, his gun roared hellfire of its own volition and two dead enemies tumbled back down the steps. His conquerors blood screamed in his veins as he turned away and raced to the roof of the building. He refused to die here; the image of an angel fueled his conviction. There was a girl he must return to at all cost, or he would burn in Hell with his broken promise.
The sun was bright and close, the shrill screeches of chaos and death were smoke in the open air. There were three more enemies on the roof. He gunned them down without a thought and then saw it, something much better than a hiding place. It looked to be a helipad; his enemies were escaping with something. That’s when he saw it. With three bodies bleeding atop it, there sat a chest within which was a treasure worth risking a kingdom for.
Inside the chest a child cried within a richly decorated crib. The boy stared hungrily at the babe, his demon eyes aglow. Of his own volition, he pointed the death end of his gun and riddled the crib with holes that bled. The mission was complete, to his pleasant surprise. Now his lord father would burst with pride, his enemies no longer had a king to die for…
“Yes, I’ve committed vile acts, but I loved you!” The man shouted at the fading embers of his cigar. Demon eyes glared out the window. “Only the shedding of blood can build empires! Everything I’ve ever done was so that we could be together! So that I could give you everything that you deserved! You were more important to me than the life of any man, woman, or child! It was I who bathed in the tears of millions so you could have the treasures you were buried with!”
He gripped the glass ashtray tightly in his hand. “And you sit in the palace I built for you while your traitorous son keeps me captive like an animal!” The ashtray flew across the room, shattering a floor to ceiling mirror outlined with jewels. Glass fell in a musical rain to the floor as the man watched, the anger gone as suddenly as it came.
The door unlocked with a click that echoed through the man’s head. A veiled young woman stepped inside and said meekly, “Are you hurt, my king of kings?”
“Be silent, whore.” The man growled; demon eyes aglow. “You dare hide yourself from me though I’ve known beauty that far surpasses yours?”
The woman curtsied, “Apologies, my king. It is our custom tha-“
“BE FUCKED IN THE FIRES OF HELL WITH YOUR CUSTOMS.” The man roared, causing the girl to cringe. They sat in silence for a moment before he growled, “Come here…”
The girl reluctantly stepped closer until she was standing right at the man’s lap. He grabbed her face and cupped it in one strong hand. Slowly, he pulled aside the veil to reveal a beautiful face; narrow, smooth and dark, with a nose that sloped gracefully and light brown eyes that were filled with sorrow. “You look like her…”
He released the girl’s cheeks and his hand fell limply to his lap. The girl stepped slowly back as his other hand came up to rub his pulsing temples. “I have one question, girl.”
“A-anything, my king of kings.”
“Am I mad?”
She remained silent. The river gave a breath of air through the wide window.
“There was a time when I ruled all that you see.” He said. “This prison was nothing compared to my chambers,” he gestured at the room, at the plush rugs and tapestries, at the un-shattered mirrors and cabinets filled with treasures from faraway lands, at the shelves filled with books in several languages, at the animal skins, both domestic and foreign. “All of these treasures, all of the treasure in the world, my life, my empire!” He looked deep into her eyes. “I would be rid of it all to spend a single night with a woman who left me alone with traitors for sons.”
His eyes left hers and gazed back across the diamond waters to the silent building. “She said she would always be mine, and I gave her everything to ensure that was true. I was once king of kings, all bowed to me! Emperors were lynched at my command! I was once ruler over death itself! Why could that not make her stay with me at least a while longer?”
“My king of kings, do not be saddened, Allah works in mysterious ways. There is a pla-"
“BE FUCKED IN THE FIRES OF HELL WITH YOUR ALLAH!” Another fit of anger consumed him. The girl backed away from the man, who now took to beating at the grate with his wooden chair until it broke and scattered in pieces.
She watched in pity, clearly nothing she could say could convince the man that he was not imprisoned, that his sons were not traitors and in fact have been dead for years. It was not possible to convince the old king that only a daughter remained of his legacy.
Allah truly worked in mysterious ways, she thought. Yet she wondered if this was part of his plan or the devil’s. All because of a cursed disease that absconded with the past years, the powerful man she once knew was driven into a spiteful shadow of his former self. And with each passing day, the disease stole more and more from him. In a month, she had doubts that he would even remember the name of the woman across the river. And he’d never again know that the reason she looked like the woman who rests across the river is…
She bit back tears and turned from the man, who now sat on top of the shattered remains of his throne underneath the wide window while the river breathed on. His demon eyes were burning into the floor, he would not look away from his kingdom of furious delusion and his empire of lost love, fixed for too long upon the building that wore the river around its neck. So she left. The door closed silently behind her, the man regained his composure and stood.
He gripped the grate and whispered, tired eyes closed. “I love you so, my beautiful queen, my darling. And I always will.” The sound of the river glittering in the sun trickled into the room like the voice of a young girl. When his eyes opened, he saw only the heavenly castle of the angel who stole his conviction. “I can still hear you singing...”
Fin.
Out the window, through the grate, over a river that sang in the sunlight there was a colossal stone building. It was brilliant in the light, seeming to wear the river as a diamond chain around its neck. The man stared at the building intensely. A cigar burned silently, caught in between the middle and index finger of his right hand. “You look as beautiful as you always have.”
He brought the cigar to his lips, took a long breath, blew a cloud of smoke through the grate. With a sigh, he brought the burning end of it down to be crushed in a thick, glass ashtray. And as the embers glowered, his eyes stared and his mind wandered…
“I see you, motherfucker, you piece of shit!” A much younger man brought a machine gun to rest on a windowsill, aiming at a building across a street littered with debris. The gun burst to life, enraged. Concrete and dust leapt out from the wall around the window across the street. Whoever lay beyond the opposing wall fired their machine gun. The young man who shouted curses was hit and fell back from the window with only half of a head.
Next to the body, a second young man choked back his cry of alarm. He couldn’t have been older than fifteen, without a hair on his smooth young face. Yet his eyes betrayed something much older and much fiercer. The glare of death, his father had called it. The boy has had death in his eyes all of his life, and was thereby drawn to it. He had the blood of a conqueror, his father had said, the conviction of an angel, and the eyes of a demon.
Violence was no stranger to his great mother country. Even before the written word was invented, warrior princes and bloodthirsty tribes roamed the land, spilling blood in the name of religion, land, and honor, always honor. This was merely another letter scrawled in the endless tomes of history, another struggle of warring brothers to be told by the survivors as they like.
Blood was still spilled in the name of religion and land, but the honor must have vanished somewhere in the fog of the eons.
Sweat dripped around the boy’s demon eyes as he moved, ducking under the window and racing from the room. In the stairwell, his gun roared hellfire of its own volition and two dead enemies tumbled back down the steps. His conquerors blood screamed in his veins as he turned away and raced to the roof of the building. He refused to die here; the image of an angel fueled his conviction. There was a girl he must return to at all cost, or he would burn in Hell with his broken promise.
The sun was bright and close, the shrill screeches of chaos and death were smoke in the open air. There were three more enemies on the roof. He gunned them down without a thought and then saw it, something much better than a hiding place. It looked to be a helipad; his enemies were escaping with something. That’s when he saw it. With three bodies bleeding atop it, there sat a chest within which was a treasure worth risking a kingdom for.
Inside the chest a child cried within a richly decorated crib. The boy stared hungrily at the babe, his demon eyes aglow. Of his own volition, he pointed the death end of his gun and riddled the crib with holes that bled. The mission was complete, to his pleasant surprise. Now his lord father would burst with pride, his enemies no longer had a king to die for…
“Yes, I’ve committed vile acts, but I loved you!” The man shouted at the fading embers of his cigar. Demon eyes glared out the window. “Only the shedding of blood can build empires! Everything I’ve ever done was so that we could be together! So that I could give you everything that you deserved! You were more important to me than the life of any man, woman, or child! It was I who bathed in the tears of millions so you could have the treasures you were buried with!”
He gripped the glass ashtray tightly in his hand. “And you sit in the palace I built for you while your traitorous son keeps me captive like an animal!” The ashtray flew across the room, shattering a floor to ceiling mirror outlined with jewels. Glass fell in a musical rain to the floor as the man watched, the anger gone as suddenly as it came.
The door unlocked with a click that echoed through the man’s head. A veiled young woman stepped inside and said meekly, “Are you hurt, my king of kings?”
“Be silent, whore.” The man growled; demon eyes aglow. “You dare hide yourself from me though I’ve known beauty that far surpasses yours?”
The woman curtsied, “Apologies, my king. It is our custom tha-“
“BE FUCKED IN THE FIRES OF HELL WITH YOUR CUSTOMS.” The man roared, causing the girl to cringe. They sat in silence for a moment before he growled, “Come here…”
The girl reluctantly stepped closer until she was standing right at the man’s lap. He grabbed her face and cupped it in one strong hand. Slowly, he pulled aside the veil to reveal a beautiful face; narrow, smooth and dark, with a nose that sloped gracefully and light brown eyes that were filled with sorrow. “You look like her…”
He released the girl’s cheeks and his hand fell limply to his lap. The girl stepped slowly back as his other hand came up to rub his pulsing temples. “I have one question, girl.”
“A-anything, my king of kings.”
“Am I mad?”
She remained silent. The river gave a breath of air through the wide window.
“There was a time when I ruled all that you see.” He said. “This prison was nothing compared to my chambers,” he gestured at the room, at the plush rugs and tapestries, at the un-shattered mirrors and cabinets filled with treasures from faraway lands, at the shelves filled with books in several languages, at the animal skins, both domestic and foreign. “All of these treasures, all of the treasure in the world, my life, my empire!” He looked deep into her eyes. “I would be rid of it all to spend a single night with a woman who left me alone with traitors for sons.”
His eyes left hers and gazed back across the diamond waters to the silent building. “She said she would always be mine, and I gave her everything to ensure that was true. I was once king of kings, all bowed to me! Emperors were lynched at my command! I was once ruler over death itself! Why could that not make her stay with me at least a while longer?”
“My king of kings, do not be saddened, Allah works in mysterious ways. There is a pla-"
“BE FUCKED IN THE FIRES OF HELL WITH YOUR ALLAH!” Another fit of anger consumed him. The girl backed away from the man, who now took to beating at the grate with his wooden chair until it broke and scattered in pieces.
She watched in pity, clearly nothing she could say could convince the man that he was not imprisoned, that his sons were not traitors and in fact have been dead for years. It was not possible to convince the old king that only a daughter remained of his legacy.
Allah truly worked in mysterious ways, she thought. Yet she wondered if this was part of his plan or the devil’s. All because of a cursed disease that absconded with the past years, the powerful man she once knew was driven into a spiteful shadow of his former self. And with each passing day, the disease stole more and more from him. In a month, she had doubts that he would even remember the name of the woman across the river. And he’d never again know that the reason she looked like the woman who rests across the river is…
She bit back tears and turned from the man, who now sat on top of the shattered remains of his throne underneath the wide window while the river breathed on. His demon eyes were burning into the floor, he would not look away from his kingdom of furious delusion and his empire of lost love, fixed for too long upon the building that wore the river around its neck. So she left. The door closed silently behind her, the man regained his composure and stood.
He gripped the grate and whispered, tired eyes closed. “I love you so, my beautiful queen, my darling. And I always will.” The sound of the river glittering in the sun trickled into the room like the voice of a young girl. When his eyes opened, he saw only the heavenly castle of the angel who stole his conviction. “I can still hear you singing...”
Fin.