Ficlets

The King of Isolation

Sunshine flooded in the room. He blinked against the blinding rays, shielding his eyes from it. It had been so long since he’d seen the light that he didn’t know if his eyes would ever adjust.

“Hello, Sunshine,” he muttered. He’d made it a habit of talking so that he would not lose his voice or his language. He closed his eyes and opened one at a time until he could blink without having tears blur his sight.

He went to the wall where the mirror was hung. With furrowed brow, he leaned closer, “blue,” he said, quite awed. Studying his reflection, the man that stare back was a scruffy looking figure.

No sunlight for three years, and the complete isolation, had taken a toll on his body. He smelled rank as a warm dead rat. His beard, a tangled mass of reddish- brown, was crusted with mud and bits of food, had grown well past his heart. The hair atop his head in no better shape.

Tired of seeing his wasted frame, he walked steadily to the window to peer out. His kingdom had flourished in his absence.

View this story's 1 comments.