Chapter I

 

I.

            “Gather round, gather round,

            All ye peasants so squalid

            Subjects of the King, come hither

            Gather round, gather round

            All ye vagrants so stolid

            Not a care but yourselves, come hither

            Gather round, gather round

            All ye with salacious professions

            Hear the King’s message, O Scum of the Earth

            Gather round, gather round

            All ye with past transgressions

            The King is forgiving; open your ears to his Word.

           

            A proclamation has been given,

            And these are the means:

            They are here, written

            Our King’s decree.

 

            ‘Find me a man by the name of Langley

            Keep him alive, for I will decide his fate.

            His hair is golden blonde and his body quite gangly,

            I would very much like him before December the Eight.

 

            But wait; please listen, before all of you scatter

            I must settle a much more troubling matter

            Listen, please will you, a sound you will hear…’”

 

            The messenger then paused, almost as if waiting, listening to his words echo throughout the fortress. He looked about, anticipating, and in that very moment, armed men dispersed from every corner, drawing swords to the necks of the lower class. Throats were slit and cut far before a scream could be mustered from such condemned bodies. Hundreds lay, helpless, nameless. They had not a family to weep for their untimely death. They had not a cent to their name to pay for a proper burial. “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the Kingdom of Heaven.”

            The messenger, who knew of this meditated massacre, quickly began to retreat until he was pinned down by one of the King’s men. He writhed under the knights, for he knew now he was under his King’s thumb. He had sought out the massacre, and this was the only way that any thoughts of it could be quashed. The knights only carried out what they were ordered to do; the messenger knew of all the plans. With his mind racing and only a few moments left, the messenger thought it best to finish the last line of the King’s decree before his imminent fate was realized:

            “’A sound ever so pleasing to my ear!’”

Reviews

[Marie]

Whoa. Do you plan to continue this? If you do please be sure to send me a read request.