The Red Years

Short Story, slightly over 1000 words. Probably horror, but I am not going to label it at this time. An evil king takes over a kingdom...

             It was a dark world. A world filled with torment, death, and destruction. Flickering street lights and broken down vehicles plagued the roads. Equal to the number of vermin were the number of woman lamenting their husbands by candlelight from within their homes. The entire kingdom was a twisted place. A vector to anyone’s soul. If one were to listen very closely, all they would hear is the moaning of spirits thrashing about the other side like a ship to a raging sea. Wrongfully departed. Contorted in the most inhumane of ways. For what? For amusement, for a display, for anything. It is here where our story begins. In the Kingdom of Cellar. During the Red Years.

            Bells ring throughout the kingdom. “Hurry, hurry” yelled the executioner. By order of the king you all have 30 minutes to take a place or you too will be acquainted with pain. All of the inhabitants slowly making their way to the courtyard. Appearing to move as bats in the daytime. Miserable and worn down. Suffering various ravages from the king. No wonder, they were all broken. For the Kingdom of Cellar was ruled by a hideous man. Known for always wearing his drawn-out red cloak. Always followed by a group of two-four men carrying it as the king walked. Daring not let it touch the ground.

            This king came to power because of his taste for blood. He was the leader of the Iron Horsemen and craved nothing more than power over all. He convinced his fellow horsemen that a nearby kingdom just lost their king and had no warriors. Between fighting two wars and a plague, there was nothing left. The king wanted to take it and restore it, but first destroy all who drove it mad. The Iron Horsemen agreed, and easily took over Cellar. Taken by force with no force at all. The people were far too sick and distraught to strike a defense.

            The executioner screamed once more, “Time to move, all of you flea infested maggot crusted corpses. Come and watch more. Or, take your time and let others watch you. 20 more minutes.” Zombies continued gathering at the courtyard, it was almost time. There weren’t many left at this point. This phase was almost complete.

            When the king took over, he first built everyone’s trust. Explaining to them that he had traveled lands far and wide. Across all ten of the seas and through the most terrifying forests. He had fought and slain monsters and would lead Cellar to a golden age. Everyone loved him at first, crowds applauded him. They loved his personality and more, they especially loved his giant red cloak. He appeared so personable and genuine, hiding his dark side. He lured in the first batch with promises of the finest medicine and herbs to rid the kingdom from its shadowy plague. Just like that, lines of people followed the king’s guards through stone walls and passed many gates. Once clear, it began. Shots were too loud and would cause panic. Fire would potentially burn down part of the kingdom and really wasn’t the king’s style. Instead, the king would lure them one at a time into a secret room. He would explain that the room is where the doctors are and due to the spread factor of the plague virus only one patient can enter at a time. Following treatment, the king stated that the cured would have to spend one week in quarantine behind the castle walls.

            “10 more minutes” bellowed the executioner, followed by a ghastly laugh. It was almost time. Nearly 90% of the kingdom was in the courtyard at this point. Making one’s way into the courtyard was quite similar to one walking down an alley closed in by dead trees. Only to finally reach the end of nothing. Weeds, rotting wood, and expiry. The truest dead end. One might ask, what caused the kingdom to grow into this? Pain followed by suffering. A dark leader with a blood red cloak.

            One by one people would gladly follow the king into the treatment room. The king gave them medicine alright, but it was the complete opposite of life saving. It was comparable to a death sentence. It was confirmed with the stinging of a needle. The king was trying to harness the plague for himself, in order to use in battle. He wanted the Iron Horsemen to have the power of death on their side. Unbeknownst to the inflicted, the king would pull needles from under his red cloak and inject them with more of the hellish disease. These needles were filled with a liquid death, covered by darkness. After the injection, the plagued would be led to a field to live out their quarantine. This week would be the last of theirs though. The injection would eat away at them from the inside. It would burn their organs like a candle. A week’s worth of wax produced. The plagued would slowly go mad. Attacking each other, attacking themselves. If one was fortunate enough to make day seven, their heart would harden to stone. The most unforgiving pain.

            “5 more minutes. Take your seats now or we will just kill you all. Your king demands to speak with you before the festivities begin. You should consider yourself very fortunate today.” After hearing this last howl from the executioner, the kingdom’s people thought of how they got into this mess. If they could have changed anything. If only they saw through the beginning, if only they saw through the king. The whole of the kingdom was now in the courtyard, standing before a stage. Trumpets sounded for the king’s entrance. The red curtains opened.

            The red box closed. “That is all for today children. I hope you enjoyed the show.” Stated the marionettist. As he packed up his puppets, some of the children asked him, “That was such a great show surely you have a name we can refer to you as, what is it?” The marionettist replied, “You can call me the seer, and I will return to see the future you chose for yourselves.” At that moment a man yelled from the courtyard stage. “Come close my friends and let me tell you about a plan I have to make the kingdom golden again. It all starts with phase one.” The man then swung around displaying a large red cloak. With this the children gasped and turned back to the marionettist, but he was gone.

Author's Note

Please tell me what you think. I am currently working on my first novel and any writing critiques I receive are greatly appreciated.