The King

The King

It was a busy Tuesday morning in the kingdom of the Western Commonwealth. In this gorgeous mountainside, the tall fern was always swaying and the yellow sun was always shining.

On the Northern Mountain of Samson, the king of the Commonwealth was locked inside his own throne room. It was the same routine for the past twenty-five years; he would impatiently wait for a messenger to walk in or for a servant to bring him his meals. It was an excruciatingly boring way to live, but he was willing to stay committed to his role in governing the entire kingdom.

This particular Tuesday, however, he was tempted to leave when one of his servants left the door cracked open to retrieve his meal from the outside. The king’s curiosity got the best of him and he left his throne room, the sun rays from the metal windows hurting his sensitive eyes. “What are you doing?” his servant asked. The king slowly turned to face him, but the servant collapsed on the floor without another word. He ignored the peasants’ insubordinate behavior and continued into the winding stone halls. It took over two hours to find the entrance, but when he finally did, several tiny, sharp objects flew by his long, ink black hair and stuck into the wall, preceded by a series of loud bangs.

“Get on the ground!” ten of his guards ordered. “Now!”

The king slowly turned, a shadow casting on his face. “Do not order your king around!” he boomed in a muffled voice, his hair swaying over his green eyes. When the guards neared him, a surge of electric energy rushed up the king’s spine. His eyes shot wide open and his veins on his forehead pulsed. Before they could do anything, all ten of the guards dropped their weapons and fell to the ground, their eyes and mouths wide open under their helmets. They were unable to stop the king when he opened the front doors with his feet.

Upon looking into the dangers of the outside world, he was shocked to see a large-scale protest happening outside the palace walls. Hundreds of civilians and common folk were yelling at the royal guards who were standing in front of the front gates. When they saw the king standing on the front balcony, they became silent —a soft hush fell upon both the

guards armed with weapons of war and the people who were holding wooden signs painted with the images of bloody crowns made of gold and blue diamonds. “My people!” the king said aloud. “Rejoice! Your beloved, ruler has been freed from the horrible, padded bonds of these m-”

“Beloved?” one of the common folk interrupted. “Why is he out here? Get him away!”

“Why are you just standing there?” two brunette women asked the royal guards.

The guards looked at each other and then turned their weapons to focus on the king himself. “You have five seconds to slowly get on the ground and kneel!” The king straightened his back; it could be heard cracking under the belts and clothes of his jacket. The guards gulped. “W-We won’t ask again!”

The king flexed every muscle in his upper body and said, “Oh, you won’t have to.” The belts on his arms and waist burst, and his straight jacket popped open. “I’ve been kind enough to provide you with several opportunities to worship me! I’ve given you all a person could ask for! Money, prosperity, protection! And how do you repay me? By locking me in my palace and restraining me in this jacket and piece of pig skin!” The king ripped the sleeves off of the jacket. The people looked at each other nervously, some even trying to escape. With his long fingers, the king tore his leather muzzle off and threw it onto the ground, stomping on it with his bare foot. “You still won’t kneel?” he asked in a demanding tone. “Fine, I guess I’ll just have to do it for you!” An electric shock shot up his spine. His eyes widened and, with every ounce of his strength, he bellowed one word that echoed out for miles:

“KNEEL!”

Everything became quiet. The trees stopped swaying, and the wind suddenly ceased.

In the moment before they were forced to bow down before the king who was maniacally laughing in the eerie silence, the people realized one, sickening truth.

For the very first time in two and a half decades, the Compulsion King was free from the Western Commonwealth Asylum.

Valentino Ramos