A short story
The sun beat down relentlessly, not pausing to allow the long-suffering citizens of Xylem to take a break. They heaved and groaned to no-one in particular whilst they dragged haystacks, bricks and laundry across the town to the Chief Guard, who stored these items for the King’s disposal. More often than not, a riot would break out, resulting in a wholesome whipping for the guilty; surprisingly though, the city was so dull that people enjoyed seeing fellow members punished. The city was spiralling towards doom, and only the ill, greedy, miserable, haggard old king knew it. To prevent a rebellion, he kept this fact hidden and secret, brutally torturing those who realised the real situation.
But there was one, a young and smart servant called Joe King came to know of this. After uncovering the current situation by seeing the rapidly decreasing income of the land, Joe King was furious. The home country he had been born, bred and grown in was being destroyed by a corrupt king stealing the country’s revenue!
There was, however, a problem. Joe King knew his status, and as much as he opposed it, in other’s eyes he was simply a slave. A slave with no other purpose in this world but to clean dishes.
And so Joe King’s masterplan began to unfold. He was constantly in peril, afraid that any time a guard would come to his small shack and drag him to the dreaded torture room.
The rumoured punishment was to have your tongue ripped out.
At first, Joe King was cautious, spreading the word only to his closest friends, but the word spread quickly, and soon Joe grew bolder, collecting people for a rebellion. One of Joe’s closest friends was named Peters, who was looking forward to being a teacher at a school.
And yet the king sat in his plush throne, sipping wine, unaware of the imminent war.
Now even lords and aristocrats were beginning to take notice. Joe King was hailed wherever he walked, no longer a mere slave but a future warlord.
By the time Joe was convinced he had a sufficient army, it was October the 29th. The attack was planned on the 31st of October, just two days away.
During the collection of followers, Joe and his friends had painstakingly handmade swords, arrows and helmets for each of the followers, who were glad that now they would have a chance of winning the war.
However, amidst all this excitement, one grumpy old man by the name of Trump was annoyed. His perfect idea of life was a life where he got attention and was fawned over, like Joe King.
“What has that lad done to earn all that respect?” he spat every day, ignoring the fact that he was too cowardly to achieve the same feat of courage as him. “He’s just a pathetic, overrated slave!”
He spat the last word out in disgust as if it left a bad taste in his mouth. But then a sly idea formed in his withered mind.
“I’ll tell the guards, get my reward money, and run away while those fools get massacred!” he whispered gleefully.
Joe King had drawn his battle plan and had explained it to his secret army. He was mildly interested as he saw Trump enter the king’s courtyard with a rare smile on his face, but attributed it to late tax payment.
His troops were in order as the church bell sounded at 11’o’clock. In one hour, at the stroke of midnight, Halloween, they would strike.
At 11:30 pm, the tension was so dense; you could cut it with a knife. The plan was to divert the army into three groups. The first would circle around to the left of the castle, whilst the second group would perform a similar tactic, only but on right side of the castle. The third group, including Joe himself, would charge forward and attack valiantly in case there was a guard regiment on standby. They were never expecting an entire army.
As 12 struck, the third group charged forward, producing as much noise as possible to cover the sound of the other two stealthy groups. Their hopes were not doused as they saw the army, their adrenaline only raised, as the most incredible war in the Middle East began.
The 3rd group fought hard and swift, trained by Joe and ex-soldiers who had joined the rebellion. The other 2 groups formed a ring around the army, entrapping the king’s guards. The battle lasted for a day, and everyone had a duty.
Daring doctors were war medics, rushing on to the battlefield exposed as they saved the lives of injured and elderly citizens concocted potions and recipes to disinfect wounds.
A truce was called the next day by the king’s army.
Xylem was saved.
Now there is no need to explain all the tiresome facts and history after the victory, but I can say for sure that Xylem, with Joe King’s fair and just rule had become prosperous and wealthy. Unfortunately, Trump’s descendants were as mean-minded as him. One of his latest ones is named “Donald”.