Fickleby Rov

Long, long ago when the world was just a piece of land filled with bl@@d and d#@th. Before the enlightenment came. Before people said stop to violence. Before the humans right were set. There was a kingdom surrounded by water from every side. One man ruled this piece of land with iron fist. No one dared to disobey. The word of a Ruler was a law. The Ruler was a saint, a god, everything and anything. People feared, respected. A tyrant loved out of obligation. This tyrant had a daughter. One of beauty and grace. Delicate flower in his wilted garden. He treasured her, loved her, obssesed over her. Locked her in gold cage out of reach of others. But someone dared to reach out. Open gold door. Exposed the flower to the sun. A jester who fell in love. Laughing stock who earned love of a princess. But then came wrath. Fury beyond recognition. One word and the jester thrown into Abyss was no longer laughing. Princess locked again in gold cage was no longer smiling. She tasted freedom for just a split second. Enough to crave more. Desperation. Depression. Misery. Resentment. Hate. Desire. Princess begged universe to grant her life a turn. Her pleads were heared Jester came back. Changed, hateful, determind, merciless. He didn't bringed laugh. This time cruelty followed. ___ "Well, well, well" voice echoes through panicked room with a throne painted in red. King's body lifeless, with small, round whole in the middle of the forhead. Click. Click. Click. Slow, steady rythm of the steps approaching through the open door. Silence falls like fog during spring morning. "The king is d#@d" a voice of a jester. The one that should bring laugh, instead of misery. The one that everybody mocked. The one that no one tooked seriously. He's a buffoon. He's just a buffoon. "The stage is set" a small, black balls hangs still in the air right in front of the guests faces. Just like the one that pierced through king's forhead five minutes ago.Tension made everyone freeze.