The King of a Conquered Land
Creative writing. I often start writing stories and poems without any clue what the next line will be. Most of them are based off of one line or word in my head that I now have to build upon. It's quite fun to work this way, as I never know how it'll turn out. I get a sense of satisfaction from doing so, just like I get from painting etc... I urge everyone to be as creative as possible, as you'd be surprised how much stress it can actually relieve. I'm not saying I'm a good writer or anything like that, I'm just saying I truly enjoy writing freeform/creatively.Sometimes my freeform writing acts as a template for a movie idea, on which I can build depth. It'd be fun to take a writing class one day. I've had the thought "A blind man once ruled the world" in my head for the past few days, and my brain won't let it go until I do something with it. So here we go (I won't edit anything):
A blind man once ruled the world. His enemies once watched in the shadows, waiting for him to make that one mistake. He was a careful man, always taking small steps walking across the cracked sidewalks, of the deserted city. He wasn't built for the world he helped destroy. He lived amongst giants, yet he feared no one. Looking into his pale grey eyes, clouded by cataracts, you'd see nothing. No compassion, no hate, just apathetic gestures on an aged exterior. He lived alone, yet had a presence about him that kept everyone away. His enemies wouldn't dare come into the city anyway, let aone the country.
It was the middle of September, and the snow gently fell to the ground. It left a thin layer of frost, stil allowing the gravel and debris to be visible. Snowfall came even earlier than last year, but they said this would be expected. Besides, there was much more to worry about than that. The land was flat, you could see the horizon from any point in the city. The blind king usually walked all day throughout his kingdom. He was a proud indvidual, who depsite all warnings stayed in what was left of his home. The city was completely evacuated twelve years ago, during the Third Great Revolution.
In his earlier days, he led the strongest of rebellions against the former king of the land. His strategical mind, and enthusiam attracted followers. They began to worship him, as if he were a God. When he took over the land, he changed. All the good he promised, was overshadowed by his unending desire for power. He waged the most violent wars against his closest allies. Seeing the devastation of those lands, other countries quickly surrendered their land.
His enemies grew in numbers. They planned their first revolutionary attack on Christmas day, the day he chose as observance for his monarchy. The attack lasted only four days, and by the end 60% of his men were lost. It was the victory that was the momentum and motivation for all future wars. The king quickly rebuilt his army, but the damage was done. His enemies grew exponentially now. The Second Revolution was won in three days. For the king was not so careful with recruiting. He made the mistake of unknowingly letting the opposition on his side. He was surrounded by enemies. They were not a violent group, they only asked for their land back. The king, feeling vulnerable for the first time, allowed this to happen.
Years went by, and peace ensued throughout the lands of the world. Whispers started to be heard of a new army deep underground. Few people saw the blind ruler after the Second Revolution. He went into exile, ashamed of being defeated. The rumors were true, he was building a secret army, and along with it, a secret weapon. He obsessed over it, till it drove him to the boundary line between reality and fantasy. In preparation for any attack, the lands of the world united their armies and headed towards the blind mans kingdom.
Seventy thousand strong arrived ready to put an end to his reign of terror. They searched high and low for the king and his army, yet found nothing. Then one day, while searching the sewers of the city they found what they were looking for. It was no army. It was a group of scientists, surrounded by a large metal device. A man in the background yelled "It's a nuclear bomb!" The reactions to this outburst were mixed. Nuclear weapons of all kinds were said to be extinct. This was the age of progression, not destruction. Before they could even attempt to figure out what it was, a beeping sound started to be heard. It was a large screeching noise that paralzyed the few men down below. The whistling sound could be heard for miles around the city, and in the next moment it stopped. It was a strange quietness throughout the land, unlike any the world had heard. The Third Revolution was over.
The king's land lay in ruins. He had killed his own people. His greed, his madness, his demise. The pacifists tried to help those that survived the nuclear attack. All the cities were evacuated, most of them finding new lives in neigboring countries. No one ever found the king, and it was assumed that he had died with the rest of the unknowing souls that day. He emerged from seculusion in an island many miles from the site of the bomb. He knew he had no citizens to govern, ye the still believed he was king. Everyday until he died, he walked up and down the plains of city, defending his domain, if only in his head. It was a beautiful place till he decided to bury it in dust. If only his eyes could have seen, how he turned New York City into a desert wasteland.
That was longer than I thought, I was hoping for like 2 paragraphs. I don't know if anyone wil actually read through it. I just did it for fun, and it feels good. Now i'll get to read it. I'm sure I could develop it into a better story, but for a continuous writing experiment it turned out pretty decent. posted by psychobabbler @ 2:23 AM
