[ FEARFIC SOLO ] (Ashford) - REVIEW ME

[its me debz]

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times. It was the age of fear, it was an age without fear. It was the peak of Jack's reign, it was the peak of Medea's rule. It was the season of Halloween, it was the season of Valentines, it was the spring of Easter, it was the winter of Christmas.

We had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going to fade out one way or another, we were all going direct the other way into the arms of DETH.

In short, the world was much like the current world, in that some of its noisiest royalties insisted on its being received, for evil or for good, in the superlative degree of comparison only.

But I, the narrator, must digress, for that boring tale (of Seven Kings warring, of a battle lost and a battle won, of a, perhaps a Legacy--) is was not the story I wish to tell, so I will tell you another.

(Feel fortunate that I am telling you a tale at all. I do not wish to tell any story at all: it is not my chosen craft. But, there is a hound at my feet, a boafox upon my shoulder, and an expectation to write.

So write I shall.)  

[its me debz]

Once upon a time, a long, long time ago, there was a King. He ruled on the throne of a land we once called Reflection.

This King had many keys, of all kinds and shapes and colours. Right after his subjects, they were the most important thing to him. In fact, his realm was built upon them, as his Kingdom's very foundation: commerce focused around them, culture depended upon them, and all the power in the world was based upon them and their handling.

This kingdom was ruled with benevolence and kindness, with a smile and with gifts for all that asked, and for some that didn't.

Among his many servant-- and oh, there were too many to count, but just enough for them all to be loved-- there was his Knight with a laurel of keys, who was the land's most talented and skilful artisan, who toiled day and night to create the keys at the specifications of his King's demands.

They were both very, very happy.  

[its me debz]

But, this would not be a fairy tale if the happiness lasted forever. Nothing ever has, nothing does, nothing ever will: not in this world, or any other.

Every story has an ending, and oh, how this one ends.

The King had no warriors, no battle plans, and no malice in his heart. It was the best of times for peace, and the worst of times for an opposition.

So of course the opposition came. The darkness descended from on high, an ugly blanket of black and blacker against the lavender clouds. From it came an army of agents swathed in shadow, armed with daggers and teeth and a vengeance.

And as the King looked upon his subjects, he knew that it was time for an escape. After all, the many, many keys of his kingdom opened many, many doors in turn. His city was a beautiful one, and he saw his brilliant people suffering, praying to him for a solution.

In their struggles to be truly free, in their few triumphs and numerous defeats, he could see the evil of this time. He gathered up all of the keys, and every citizen clutched many in their arms. More than they could carry, more than they had ever seen in their long, long lives.

The citizens of Reflection opened every door in that castle, great and large and overgrown with vines. The bricks crumbled under the assault of revenge, and he held the hand of every citizen as they passed through the doors to other worlds, to other places, to other hopes and dreams of another King.

And so, as the Kingdom fell, all left him behind after bidding him a tearful farewell.

All except one: his loyal Knight, who clutched his King's hands in his own.

"Are you not leaving?" the King asked, tearful, for the ending time was near.

"I am loyal," the Knight said, and bent the knee.

"It is a far, far better thing that I do, than I have ever done," the King replied, moved, and twined their hands together, just so. The armies stormed the castle, and approached the throne room with thundering cries that carried out of that world, into the next. "It is a far, far better rest that I go to than I have ever known."

The King and his Knight passed on, bodies ravaged by opposing forces. But in every world that the King's subjects had escaped to, every universe and world of fantastical creation and the mundane, they existed, fated to find each other, and live together always.

The End.