King of Sarah

A Story by Channon Perry

A short story about mental health and the devastating effects it can have if it is not treated early enough.

Heavy armour clunked as the knight knelt before me. The jewel crested crown was heavy on my head. Sunlight streaming in through the stained glass windows glinted off of his shining silver chain metal. “I dub you Sir Spot,” I called out to the empty church “for your valiant attack of the mail man and protecting our nation you shall have this tittle bestowed upon you to bear with pride and honour.” I tapped him on his left shoulder with my golden sabre, and slowly with the great weight of this tremendous moment, moved the sharp end of the sabre above his helmet and tapped him on his right shoulder. “Please rise” I commanded.

The knight, instead of rising, leapt forward and rubbed his warm wet tongue right across my face. I laughed, “Spot! That’s not how you should treat royalty!” He wagged his tail despite my disapproval and barked in excitement. I took the crown off my head then, and placed the clean bright red cap down on the pile of bricks which had been my throne. “Come on then you silly dog, let’s go inside”. I can’t remember what had happened the rest of that warm summer afternoon but that memory has always been so clear in my mind, despite the fact that most memories weren’t anymore.

In moments of clarity like this there was nothing but bittersweet melancholy and crushing defeat. I stood up slowly, allowing my old joints the time that they needed to wake up. Shrugging my mottled jacket on and grabbing my tattered walking stick I made my way up the alley. The morning traffic had already begun beneath the lifeless grey skies. It always felt as if everyone else was moving and thinking twice the speed that I could. The noxious fumes of the city wafted over the streets and made them foggy. I drifted through this fog with no particular purpose. After 20 minutes of walking through the haze I found myself by the arched entrance to the city cemetery. It seemed mostly empty; perhaps it was still too early for the grounds keeper to have arrived yet. I wandered inside and found a hard concrete bench to rest on for a while. My stomach growled with discontent at the delay.

At that moment the smell of bread, Sarah’s home baked bread, came to me so strongly I was moved to tears. Oh, Sarah. I remember your floral dresses and soft skin. I remember the moment you said ‘I do’ in that beautiful white dress, smelling of vanilla. I remember the love in your eyes when you first laid eyes on our son. “I’m sorry!” I shouted to the crumbling grey headstones, they replied with stoic silence. I couldn’t stop them from taking her away.

They came in the night, packed all her things and took her and our son away. I have spent the rest of my life looking for her. I had come home from working the night shift, and I had practically run home because I was being followed. When I walked through the door of our small home, I knew immediately something was wrong.

I rampaged through the house, glass clattering to the ground, as I frantically search through her. Her closet was empty, so was our son’s, they had even taken our son’s favourite stuffed toy. I ran and ran so far, calling out for her, nights and days meshed together I’m not sure how long I ran for. Since that night, I have not been able to find my way back.

I know they’ll come for me too. When they do, I’ll be waiting. I placed my filthy red cap on to my head firmly. I have been preparing for the day that they do come for me for the last thirty six years. Pulling my pocket knife out of my breast pocket I examined it. It was a little rusted, but it would do. The sun glinted of off the long sharp blade.

The sword that was in front of me was forged out of the hardest steel by the best armourers. Fit for a king. It looked like a venomous viper in my hand. The ladies and gentlemen in the court spoke softly in admiration of their king. All of them wore all grey, the colour of concrete. “Tonight” I proclaimed “our enemy will fall, and justice will be restored to the kingdom! Your queen will be returned!” The people cheered. At that very moment a knight appears, dragging by a rope a man clad in green.

“You can’t be here” the green man says, stupidly, to me. He stands tall, too tall.

“Where is Sarah? Tell me or you’ll be executed” softly, violently, I threaten him. He stops speaking; instead, the sounds he makes are as if he is trying to speak under water. The noble men and women begin to jeer. They are daring me to take his life. He took Sarah away from me. He should die. I leap forward with my viscous sword and plunge it into his neck. Blood immediately begins to splutter from his mouth and gush from the gapping wound. In the struggle as he falls slowly to the ground my crown in knocked from my head. The red cap lies on the grass.

As his dead eyes stare accusingly at me, I begin to laugh. I have finally won. “I won! I have done it!” I shout to the ladies and gentlemen in the court, but there is nothing but stoic silence, they have left. All but one lady, dressed in a colourful floral dress, begins to screech, and does not stop. Soon there are many people in the cemetery, including the police. I don’t remember much after that.

In my cell, I laugh a lot, I think to myself, by now I’m sure I’ve killed them all. The b******s who took my Sarah are all dead. I’m here because they say that I’m sick. It must be because I move slower than other people. I sleep a lot. And when I’m not asleep I laugh. They try to tell me lies, but I’m used to it, they’ve been trying to do that my whole life. My mother even told me that Spot wasn’t real. They told me that Sarah is real, but thirty six years ago she ran away. They said that no one ever took her. I know they’re lying though. I’ll find Sarah, my knights will keep looking for her. Until then, I’ll keep laughing at their lies. Ha ha!