Madness Plagues FamiliesA Story by Rhiuna_Rya The tale of Sadra- made a pharaoh at a young age by his own father's madness. A small boy played among a shaded shallow shore of an expansive river, wearing only a white skirted bottom his hair laying down the nape of his neck and multi lengths around his face. Splashing water about, watching the small minoes swim about with his large hazel eyes dark skin wet with the cool river water. It was rare for the small boy to be by himself, usually surrounded by his large family but he had cleverly slipped past people, being rather slight and quiet he had learned how to use these traits for these rare times alone. Suddenly, the sound of steps drew his attention behind him. "Daddy? Have you come to bathe?" Large hazel eyes staring toward the tall male. Covered in the blood of his own children. A man who after killing each one by one while their mother's watched, mouths bound tightly by thread that had been sewn through their lips. Only after he had finished, he had counted. One. One was gone. And then he found him, and had fully planned on drowning the small boy. Sadra, supposedly his boy but he knew one had not been, one was not his child and if he could not decide which, this method would ensure the b*****d was dead. Yet, hearing the soft voice speak to him after hearing so many pleads, begging, and screams somehow something clicked. The man slowly walked up to the boy. Sitting in the small shaded pool, a large bloody hand ruffled the dark hair. Staining the strands with crimson. "Yes Sadra, I need a bath," the man answered in low voice, almost too soft for the ears of the child. Turning his head, he looked directly at the little one, whose dark skin of his flushed face was now covered with blood from his father's hand. A tired smile drew upon his lips as he stared into the hazel eyes that looked much like his own. Moments later, he walked into the water, wading farther and farther. Sure enough, the blood began to wash off, spreading around him instead and yet the pharaoh continued to swim out into the river. Sadra's large eyes watching curiously before a scream erupted from his lips. The river was full of crocodiles which was why they were ordered never to go past a certain point and covered in blood... Blood soon washed upon the shore onto the stunned boys feet, who soon ran to the house leaving the ghastly scene running through the extravagant palace crying out for his mother. Eyes blinded by tears that he did not notice what he was running into until he slipped in something hot, more blood not that the young boy had registered what the scarlet liquid was .The blood of his siblings. Landing hard upon the marble, face to face with his murdered siblings, and if by some horrible irony of the gods were to be exacted he appeared just like them if he had stayed there. The women had been carried down under the palace to be finished off. Sadra somehow managed to stumble away from the scene, hiding in the corner and watched as the "mess" was cleaned up by servants. It took hours before someone noticed the small boy in the corner, the new Phaoroe was a small, slight, and blood soaked little boy. There were things that would be forever unsaid, and not just by those whose lips are sewn shut, or so Sadra's adviser had told him when he was only a boy. That was the day he had become Pharaoh. No one had expected this of him, being the first child of his father's fourth wife he was to never even be thought a contestant. However, things happened, things that his father had done would go unsaid, unspoke about, yet everyone knew about. These things stirred in Sadra's mind as he walked upon the underground layers of the palace. Where in a small room, where small bones, and four larger skeletons in a row. His father was somewhat a lunatic, another unspoken thing, among the small bones was an illegitimate child. No one knows which body it was out of the numerous children nor the woman who bore it, but it was not the Pharaoh's. However, there was definitely one and considering no one would tell his father who the woman who had bored it and which one it was... They all had to be wiped out. Sadra being the only survivor of this massacre which had also been 'kept secret'. Of course, the people assumed the deaths of the family but none knew the details but the servants, adviser, and Sadra had been slowly piecing everything together. He had lost his whole family within a matter of hours, yet he still walked down to the room now and then mainly staring at the body of the women, unable to pick out his mother.He had even slipped down there having run, still hearing screams of the women; however, their faces were too mared to tell which was his mother. He had trouble sleeping, they plagued his dreams every night. Sometimes he would be a little boy running along the rooms once more, calling out for his mother desperately and run into her arms. Only to feel the warm blood drop onto his hair and arms, he would look up and there stare into the chilling face of a disfigured woman. Other times he would be his normal age, hearing their calls for him. over and over pleading for his help but he was always too late, always falling into the blood. But these dreams would stop, he had learned of where to buy a rare herb that would wipe his mind of dreams and allow him to sleep. Closing his eyes Sadra turned away from the bodies of the dead, walking out he closed the door tightly, picking up the burning lantern he had set out waiting for him. Hoping the dead would not be once his eyes had closed that night.
© 2015 Rhiuna_Rya
Author's Note
Featured Review
Reviews
|
Stats
397 Views
5 Reviews  Shelved in 2 Libraries
Added on February 26, 2015Last Updated on March 2, 2015 Tags: murder, violence, blood, manipulation, pharoah, slightly au to history Author
Rhiuna_RyaDyer, ARAboutHello, I am pretty amateur when it comes to writing by myself, and usually need an editor or /have yet to find that/. Having a type of dysgraphia did not help what so ever, but through literate ro.. more..Writing
|
![[send message]](https://www.writerscafe.org/images/mail.png){kind=small}
![[befriend]](https://www.writerscafe.org/images/friend.png){kind=small}
Share This
Email
Facebook
Twitter
Read Request
My Library
Flag Writing