As I may have mentioned already, I’ve been sorting through some old files and have dug out some of my old short stories. This is another of those stories, one of my earliest. Looking back, it’s a bit on the pretentious side but overall I’m pretty happy with it. If nothing else, it is a bit of a curio, good for seeing how much my writing has changed. It also has a slightly biblical theme but I think that was to do with the theme of the competition it was entered into (I think it may have won but can’t be sure as it was a very long time ago). Anyway, take a look, enjoy and let me know what you think of it.
From the highest window of the highest tower, he looked down on his kingdom. He truly was the master of all he surveyed, and he hated it.
He hated all of those who roamed its streets, the lost souls, and the damned. All of them seeking redemption and finding only punishment torture and eternal agony, an agony that came from his hand, and he hated it.
How had it come to this? How had he, who had sat for so long at the feet of the one, come to this? He knew the answer, he knew who to blame and he hated himself for it. Before the fall, he had been in a position of exultation, a guiding light for those who lost their way, the voice of the one that had sang higher than all others.
Now what was he? He also knew the answer to this. He was now filth, filth to lead the filth. The one to whom all those without hope turned. When their last chance was up, he was who they came to, crying out for forgiveness and absolution and all he could give them was the cruellest of fates, he gave them more pain than they had ever experienced. When they had finished with their pitiful lives and they hoped that they would find peace in the next life, all they found was him, waiting, looking down on them from the highest window of the highest tower. His shallow stare from empty eyes, setting fire to their very souls, and he hated them for it.
Now, though, it would all be different. Now they would truly know the true meaning of the end, now they would learn the true meaning of his name and everything he wanted from before the fall would be his, the power, the glory: everything.
He picked up the plain, ivory, violin and stepped through his window and out onto the balcony. Almost immediately they all looked up to him, their silent mouths making shapes of pleading in vain. He closed his eyes and slowly pulled the bow across the strings. They made a very low mournful sound. In the streets below they still looked up but now they wept, some tears of joy and some tears of despair. He started playing faster, the pitch becoming higher; an urgent, panicked tune flowed out from the balcony.
Below, they clapped their hands to their ears; the once silent mouths now screaming out a million decibels of fear. Their cries started shaking the ground beneath their feet. As they fell to their knees, dying a second death, the buildings fell around them until only the highest tower remained, yet he did not stop playing.
In the world above, people stopped in their tracks listening to the terrible yet beautiful sound that emitted from beneath their feet. Soon they too were screaming, soon they clapped their hands to their ears, only when they fell to their knees they would only die a single death, and when their buildings fell around them he still did not stop playing. Not until he heard the voice.
He had not heard the voice in so very long. He had forgotten how majestic, how kind, how commanding, how cruel it was.
“Stop please stop” The voice said gently yet in a thunderous tone “You must, this time we will all fall. YOU MUST STOP!”
He did not stop, he merely opened his eyes and saw darkness and heard silence, and that is all there ever was.
So there you have it. I hope you enjoyed it. Most likely not the best thing ever written but hopefully not the worst either. Like I said above, let me know what you think.
Thanks for reading