Justice

♦ Thomas Beard ♦

The sun rose over a gentle lake, the center of a small fishing kingdom. The town prospered and the king had one child, a son. Fearing that his son would kill him for the throne, the king drowned the boy in that gentle lake, as the sun set behind it, and afterwards returned to his bed.

No one had seen the king’s sin, but when he woke he found that a vengeful angel had entered his chamber. The angel began to speak. 

“Atone,” they said. “Reveal yourself and let yourself be punished, or you will watch your town wither the moment before you die.”

The sun rose and the king said nothing of his sins.

Time passed, and the waters of the town grew dark. The lake, that gentle lake where the boy had died, grew a deep, powerful crimson. The flesh of any fish that were retrieved were scarred with words of accusation, of fear-

-please no don’t father I swear I swear there is only loyalty in my heart love for my king I swear I love you I love you-

-and the fish were dry. Foul.

Inedible.

And the town starved. Each day the king withdrew deeper and deeper into the castle that had become his fortress. Each day the people threw themselves on the walls of his palace, his tomb. And those stone walls were painted a bloody red.

As the town grew darker, the king grew ill, his mind slipping. Black fog rolled over the town, and that vengeful, damning angel visited the king for the final time.

“I will give you this last chance,” they said, “to confess. Before you die, and your deeds and words are forever locked behind the impenetrable wall that Death casts.”
Fearful again, the king was silent.

“Very well.” The angel said. “With a sorry heart-”
“Must you?” The king asked. “Have I not suffered? Must the unknowing masses suffer too?”
“I am God’s vengeance,” was all they said.

“But are you His justice?”
The angel fell silent, and the king died.

And the kingdom would never see the sun.