The King

The king is mad and he is destroying another city.

Four hours to the peak that overlooked Hektra. He stares down for another two, his silence absorbing my quiet, mournful pleas.

He calls it his duty and he weeps as he begins.

He clenches his fists, pushes his hands out in front of him, twists his arms like a contortionist. I stand back from the edge; I can’t watch again, but I hear everything.

'I warned them,' he sobs as the cacophony of agony scales the mountain to reach us.

My father is mad, and he has destroyed another city.