Written by Daton L Fluker
E-mail datonfluke@live.com
CHAPTER 2 HABITUALLY TASKS FOR DAILY RECTIFYING II
When the darkness comes that is when the light shines bright on the other side of Minaera. It’s a good day for beautiful children to be born; well, on one part of the world, and a struggle for others on the other side of the planet to take a pilgrimage in some of the most obtrusive weather. It’s supposed to be a time of joy for the Camelots but now even the brightest days are turning pessimistic about a nation that is supposed to be full of light. Lord Matchbox closes the silk drapes inside of Town-Hall.
They stayed on their path but when the 50-year day changes to a night the Town-Hall was the only thing left of this checkpoint. Everything else was burned to dust by an enemy army. Fortunately, they were on the other side of the planet when this happened and like most of the cities in this age they have to unceasingly rebuild and advance to different parts of Minaera. To them this is understood to be the circle of life.
He turns around. The room is furnished with six large windows (oval shape at the top and compress at its foundation). In the middle of the gigantic room a long wooden table with legs short enough for someone to sit Indian style sits in silence. The foot of it is sinking into a wide-red-carpet with a lion with its wings spread on it and the diction of Camelot written in big yellow letters on the top of the images? However, what ills on the table is the most disturbing entity. It secludes a muddy vision of hate because in there it is always so gray.
Only the moonlight was filling the room with light-until this day- now the sun is rising in the east. The colors of the room are showing its brilliance but only with scorned reveries. Stools for people to sit are ballet around the table. Two people are still sitting down with their legs cross underneath it. Lord Matchbox’s mother and father are sitting there.
Everyone calls him Lord and the only way to get a position like that is if a person were granted it when, or if, the lord has died and given him the responsibility. The roach infested room buries its retreat into the unscrupulous supper on the table.
His parents have been there for a few months. The smell of the room is unpleasant. His father and mother died happy at the same time. They are still holding hands. The reason they were not buried yet, because a rebellion had been going on for several months at a time. His parents both died wide awake on the last hours of a ferocious snow blizzard that kept most of everybody inside. No form of heating is in the room. Everybody had to embrace together to keep from freezing to death.
His father, Lord Matchbox the 1st, closed his eyes but his mother has hers wide open staring at the stuff on the table. His mother skin is black and her grey hair has changed to a pink color because of her rotten blood marinating in it. Both of their faces have turned inky sable black. His father has on the lord’s garments with a red cape veiled down behind him. They were never touched by occasion but left in lifeless motion for some period. His mother still has the Queen’s crown on her head, and his father doesn’t have the crown anymore. It’s waiting for the new Lord at the back of the hall where it sits on a large wooden thrown. Matchbox walks toward the back of the room still staring at the table. Three male servants also stand around it staring in the same direction.
It’s cooler than the outside and the portrait of death they stare at will burn into their souls until infinity after next. Even in reincarnation they will remember this catastrophic exhibition because it is the sickest thing anyone can bear with his or her own eyes and this is just plain unhealthy for anyone’s individual being.
There, on top of it, lays a body of a beautiful woman. She was one of the servants who gave her loyalty and life to the famous city of light (Camelot). Well, her face is fair and young. However, what is left of her body is ridiculously gross. Her skin is flayed off her muscles. The table is flush in blood and human secretions spread out underneath her. Her long hair shades out across the table toward his father and mother while her ribcage has been picked on, while portions of it is scraped clean.
She has no more intestines. Half of her heart is inside one of the bowls on the table. “Thaw shall not kill.” Her fingers and toes from both her hands and feet have been masticated to stubs. They had to eat her alive – well not exactly alive but raw. Lord Matchbox nears his thrown, but still he has his eyes locked on the table. He takes off his helmet, picks up the crown, closes his eyes and puts his head down then stabs the sword into the floor and holds the handle out.
Lord Matchbox order’s the servants,
LORD MATCHBOX
“Take them out of here! Bury my mother in a separate grave and bury the girl with my father! It was his choice to do this. So he must be buried with his sins!”
He tries to stop but tears ramble from out of his closed eyes.
The servants don’t move at first. They have been living there for a while with the royal family and are shocked about the events which happened in this room. They need a little motivation. Lord Matchbox raises his head and screams at them,
LORD MATCHBOX
“DO IT NOW!!!”
NEAR THE FARM
Bloody Grimy Eyes of Mommy
The man, who wife got slaughtered in the pot-roast, is now carrying his son and holding his daughters hand walking toward an empty field where Lord Matchbox forthright out his hand and directed him land. The new Mayor waves his broken sword to ten workers carrying some resources, wood and some building tools, to go out into the field. The Mayor doesn’t say a word. He waves them into the man’s direction and for the commotion going on outside and all the battles, the army, and he have been in together-for some reason-they know exactly what these signals are, coming from the Mayor.
The workers begin gathering equipment on transporters (a small wagon, which a horse is supposed to pull) but one of the workers has to carry it because the horses are a scarce commodity. The man goes in the middle of his new land. Nothing is there except a timeworn desolated ice-field. Snow covers its basin and old tracks of bandwagons are imprinted in the soil. Sitting under a dark blue sky, a snow-cap-mountain-range, lays scrutiny over the impressive territory, and in the distance, with miles of a monotonous coast. The man sits in the middle of the snow still holding his son close to him. Conversely, his daughter is standing next to him but after a moment of staring into open space she sits down. The girl grabs him and holds him close. She says,
GIRL
“It’s going to be ok Daddy.”
He continues to stare out into the open view dumfounded about today’s events. His son is also bewildered and he doesn’t understand fully of what has taken place. He says,
BOY
“Where is mommy? I want my mommy? Where is she daddy?”
The wind is panting icy air on their skin every few seconds, and each time it does the girl and the boy grips their father’s warm-body close. However, it appears unavailing for the father because he has given up and needs a long time to recover. For a moment, liveliness is an emotion extinguished by stubbornness. The girl sings a song her mother had sung to her each time her mother put her to sleep at night.
GIRL
“Bloody grimy eyes of mommy if you don’t put away your trinket show. Slimy grimy bugs are bitter boil with hugs and kisses in the bitter snow. You will always know that I will love you and hug you so even when you stub your toe or get stuck in the heart with a wooden arrow.”
She can’t finish it. Tucking her head down into her father’s side, she cries. The man continues to stare out into the open range. The more the day goes on, the more disarrayed the people in the village get. Only two cottages are left. Both are made from stone, packed ice, and mud. The cottages are rounded at the top and are leveled down toward the back. Smokestacks are burning from out of their tops. Before the workers came, there wasn’t enough wood to make a fire, the resources were empty. However, workers are throwing stacks of wood next to the cottages giving the villagers’ fuel to cook with.
The workers coming in from the battle march sluggishly, taking the rest of the resources in veneers, piling some next to Town Hall. Headless bodies are lying in the middle of the street. Warriors advance their spears out to the new mayor holding heads of the people the new King advise them to murder in their hands.
Near the hill yelling at them, the Mayor voices is husky.
MAYOR
“Take your spears and dig them upright near the front of Town Hall and stick those heads on them! We don’t have silver platters but this will still be an amusing sight to see! You, over there! After you finish, bring those bodies and some wood to this hill! We will burn them all!”
His voice is unquestionably powerful and so Herculean like that it echoes into the walls of Town Hall. Two people, who names were on the King’s list, are in the middle of the street with dead bodies all around them. A worker goes and picks one of the bodies up and then another comes behind him and collects a second one. They transport the bodies to the hill.
An old man and his wife are sitting in the middle of the circle. They have on nice clothing, but now their clothes are dirty from being dragged in the mud. The man and the woman are kept alive for a purpose, and that reason will soon reach the man’s and women’s attention. The Mayor walks toward them. He stops right in front of them and stares for a while. Both, he and his wife, are covered in blood, but not their blood.
The mayor speaks,
MAYOR
“Mr. Belgran! How are you doing today?”
Mr. Belgran spits warm blood from out of his mouth, and replies.
MR. BELGRAN
“What is the meaning of this? We were asleep! I don’t know what is going on?”
MAYOR
“Well you know I was gone off to battle for a while! I come back and things are unbalanced! You should know what is going on! Why did the Lord ask me to kill you?”
Mr. Belgran laughs and spits on the ground.
MR. BELGRAN
“You don’t know? I’m an old man anyway. I and my wife lived a healthy life. We ran out of food and everybody in the village omitted their loyalty! There was one loyal family, and he was supposed to be killed today!”
He continues to spit blood out of his mouth.
MR. BELGRAN
“I was the only Duke that voted not to kill him! However, I voted to murder the rest! It’s all about survival! I hope you know that these meaningless rules in this association are not really vigor. They are ridiculous! Well, go about your business! I can’t stand seeing my wife suffer!”
He and his wife stare at each other.
MR. BELGRAN
“Kill me first!”
The Mayor lifts his sword in the air. Mr. Belgran smiles and the blade swings down separating his head from his body. His wife Screams, “AHHHH!”
Council with the Lord
THREE HOURS LATER IN FRONT OF TOWN HALL
15 poles with heads on them are lined up outside inviting death into the front doors of Town Hall. The doors are open. The workers are trying to air out the disgusting smells coming from the inside, cleaning things. The workers have removed the old Lord and the Queen from the room. They have to do more unpleasant work. They take out (piece by piece) the mutilated corpse of the dead woman body on the table. No clean rags or tools for them to use, so they use their bare hands.
The Mayor goes toward Town Hall. He’s still wearing his battle uniform. No way can he get cleaned up at this point. Walking pass the hanging heads into the hut passing a worker, who has a hand full of human secretions running out of the door, the Mayor continues toward Lord Matchbox.
INSIDE TOWN HALL
The sun shoots scarlet rays through the windowpane. To us this would feel like a genuinely long sunrise but to these people it is a blithesome sparkle. Not everybody gets to see an elegant day and for those who do, you better believe they traveled through hell to get there. Without asking the Mayor grabs one of the stools from the table and walks to the back of the room where the lord resides. He places it on the floor and sits down in front of him.
Lord Matchbox keeps his head down with his sword held out. He felt the Mayor’s presence when he entered the room. Nevertheless, from all what had happened in the last years of his people, his emotion is despairing.
LORD MATCHBOX
“You are like my father. You raised me for battle and during the times of homage you still stuck by my father’s decisions. Even now you give yourself to my service! There is no more of this kingdom, and this day will be truly difficult to rebuild. The Omega destroyed all of our check points. It’s going to be hard to reconstruct any of it. Three million years of work from our forefathers gone to sap!”
Lord Matchbox stands up and throws his sword toward the table. It sticks in the middle of it. He screamed out the last of his words. The lord dementedly cools himself off then sits back down. He scrounges into the thrown staring up at the ceiling. Statues of his mother and father are braced on the top of the windowpane planks. The statues look out like devils gawking into the dimness of the room offering a painted view of another abandoned kingdom.
MAYOR
“We don’t need to worry about that right now! We have to, at least, attempt to build a larger army to take revenge on our people!”
LORD MATCHBOX
“How do we suppose to do that?”
He closes his eyes, so he won’t have to look at the statues anymore.
MAYOR
“If we put our kingdom under Truce law then we would have more than two years to rebuild our kingdom! We won’t get attacked by any other district until we are ready for battle! However, we will have to trade our goods with everyone, including the enemy! We can’t refuse anyone! Immediately, we would have to destroy all our weapons and start rebuilding!”
He is persistent with his words, but he always screams them out. He has been through this before. This will be his second day. He knows all the rules of battle, so he is giving the Lord a grand recommendation.
LORD MATCHBOX
“Well, the people are not loyal. If we destroy all the weapons then how can we govern them?”
MAYOR
“They’ll have the right to leave or not! Those that want to stay can work hard and those that want to leave can! We can’t tax them anymore until we find a way to bring income into the city! We can only give them land! The ones that are not loyal get nothing! I’ll schedule a town meeting right away if you like?”
LORD MATCHBOX
“I have nothing to lose and cinch to obtain. I’ll trust you with this. We will have a meeting tonight. I have to send a message to the other Lords of our plans. Please send a messenger boy. Give him a horse so he could move fast.”
The mayor stands up and salutes. It’s an action that he doesn’t need to do anymore, but he does it by natural intuition.
MAYOR
“Yes My Lord! I’ll have them all together in the adjacent hour!”
The Mayor turns around and walks toward the door.
The table is almost clean except for the girls head. A worker walks in and grabs her head immediately taking it outside.
LORD MATCHBOX
“Wait!”
The mayor stops and turns around,
MAYOR
“Yes My Lord!”
Lord Matchbox stares at the statues on the wall.
LORD MATCHBOX
“Let’s wait twenty four hours before we take any action. Bring me some arrows with sharp heads and a bow. I want to practice my archery!”
It’s the first time the mayor ever smiled.
MAYOR
“Yes my lord!”
The Mayor leaves out the door.
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