The Tale

based on the Canterbury Tales, I've created my own short story.

The tale: Once upon a time there had been a child born of royal blood, raised by royal blood, in an empire run by a king, it was solely up kept by its military, trained to the highest degree.

(though ignorant of the fact) the young lad was a prince nonetheless, who was destined to take the throne to his own one fateful day when he came to age, but, unlike the other children he’s come to know, his childhood was stripped from him at the age of ten and his seclusion was enabled for immediate military training.

A life never meant for a boy of his age, he was tortured, beaten until his skin shredded softly and tender, as if toilet paper had acquired the silk texture of string cheese that had been submersed in cold, bitter, blood, this blood that had a sorrowful drip as if crimson tears the flowed through lacerated eyelids, and often times he was slashed so harshly, his body contained enough scars to help himself solve math problems by the end of it all, as if he had fallen in love with a knife and had hugged it repeatedly.

Now no one could imagine that this had gone on for five years, and another five years spent on learning to properly rule, a mind that became shrouded by only this, tears that had fallen into dirt meant the same as rain, nothing, because dirt is obsolete to soil, and his mind became that un-grown flower that was planted in that dirt, and without that soil as a boy, A man’s mind was spoiled.

He came to be twenty years of age, the age appropriate to manage the throne, with a mind fixated upon a war he experienced but a war he never had, his vision is blurry, almost like his eyes were intoxicated as if a town drunk that had lost his spectacles while drowning himself in his own toxicities, like a confused serpent water falling its own poison.

This “so called” training had gone so terribly wrong; this prince was trained when too young and saw not the world but the scars, the scars that haunted him like silent, stalking, stars, startling while sweetly staring back into eyes that didn’t glisten to its cosmic nightmarish twinkle that danced in within his skin like cysts, and this prince, a nightmare in himself, the two trying to frighten each other but cant, this is the very war he experiences, but never had because it’s not won, these nightmares that cant scare each other ironically cancel one another out to a blank mind that only saw pain, and was driven by it.

And the king saw this plethora of propaganda in this young princes eyes and had realized that he had created a problem, a mistake that he was ashamed of and too unfit to manage on his own, or as he didn’t want to, and exiled this serpent of his own blood from his kingdom, the only thing that was promised to this prince.

Enraged and confused, this young prince traveled a road alone, his hunger for revenge was infinite and made the ground harsh to walk on, his feet hurt as much as his heart he was inept of, a tattoo of one stitched to his chest would be better suited than the one he had been born with at this point.

The scars began speaking to him, singing in fact! A melody, metabolically repeated itself over and over again, silently seeping into the cracks of his psyche ‘till they began fueling his gluttonous hunger for revenge, this revenge becoming cannibalistic, the scars screaming, singing, chanting, “love is pain, love is us” and so he himself began chanting the very same thing, and after each chant came a slice.

Without anyone to show him otherwise he only knew the world through cuts and bruises, he only knew love through scars, so what better way is there to show it? And it began, through villages and towns he searched for love, raging, ravenously hacking and slashing anything that was fleshy, warm, and alive, repeating over and over, “love is pain, love is us”, the swing of his blade caused body fluids to paint eerie pictures of limp bodies that once stood strong.

After two years this prince finds his way back home… Home, from which he was perished, he began to cry, his mouth became bitter and dry with the taste of decaying teeth on his tongue, he saw only another village again with people there capable to love, but there was something about this village that seemed so strange to him, he couldn’t quite put his finger on it, he wandered about, and for the first time in a while, he felt as if a source of love was here for whatever reason It was.

He soon found his way to the king’s quarters, one couldn’t imagine how he got past the guards, he walked pass the entrance into the room where the king resides, and as this serpent walked up to the king he sat paralyzed at the sight of this monstrosity that was his son, the prince’s skin was tainted with old blood, cracked and scattered on his flesh that resembled  shattered glass upon unfertile earth, the very scent of death started creeping up his nose, his face beginning to cringe, the prince’s arm began to tremble, his blade was dancing anxiously as he drew nearer, he came close enough and slowed to a complete stop and chanted “love is pain, love is us!”.

 

If you ignore your problems, they come back to haunt you.

Author's Note

Ithought about this particular story a while ago, but i never wrote it, and still didn't! lol. So this is somewhat of a short - prose - summary of what i have been contemplating on for some time. i atleast needed to get a little of it out eh? should i write this story? o.O