This is a short story of sorts I wrote a while ago and felt the need to release to the world, I am not sure if people will understand it without having some knowledge of history, but I will leave a section explaining it at the bottom incase you don't. It is a little wierd and muddled, though it is meant to be and when you understand the historical situation you'll understand the meaning.
Here goes....
A Prison for a Rose
In these walls I cower, shut out from the world and all its intricate dealings. I have no means to speak to those I love and yet I watch them, plotting and molesting the righteous path that I had set them upon before my incarceration. Day becomes night and night becomes days, yet time stands still for me, no matter who visits my sorry prison where I dwell in the filth of my own distress. When I close my eyes, the Devil speaks to me. He spills his vile nectar in my ear and talks of my desires, my dreams to break free but I do not fall for his trickery, for I know that his salvation would only lead to damnation. I often wonder if God has abandoned me, leaving me to rot in the collapse of all that I knew, but I hold strong for I still breathe and for that I am assured of his love.
I remember the day I was shut away from the world, it was not my fault that they lost their possessions yet they blame me, the accusatory finger always jabbing at my side, poking at my conscience. To make matters worse, as I am abandoned to my own mind my friends begin to squabble amongst themselves and I am left to assess their stories one by one, from a position of little ability. I cannot defend my bride when slander is poured upon her, for I am shut away, trapped in a cell of misery and unable to stand by her. Even when my son is presented and I scream, scream with joy, they cannot hear me for my voice is small and feeble to them, I am alone and only I can hear me scream, lest the Devil who jangles his keys outside my door lets out a laugh, revelling in my demise.
Many men visit me, they probe my thoughts as best they can but none of them understand the pits that I have sunk into and none of them can pull me out. They try their hardest, but their will is not enough and their strength is insignificant to those that trap me here, rambling to myself every time the sun sets and moon rises in the sky, a dance I have watched time and time again for there is little else to do. Sometimes they bring their friends, who sparkle in the sky and dazzle me and help me forget, for a while, that I am a prisoner.
My enemies gather at the gates, my inability to strike back is the perfect chance for them to ruin my house yet further, infecting its very foundations with their lies, their untruths. They have waited for this day for many a year and I can do nothing to stop them, try as I might I am unable to free myself and to put them down, back to where they belong. So here I sit, watching as all I knew and cherished crumbles around me and even those little things that once brought me joy fail to break lock which keeps me here.
Each day though, I grow stronger for I know the end of my sentence must surely grow ever closer. I cannot wait to feel the cool breeze across my face and rain upon my forehead, luxuries I never thought that I could ever surrender, but surrender them I have. Life’s little pleasures have been snapped away from me and I see now, that life is a gift from God and as such, he should be praised for his great generosity. I took him for granted before, but never again, for no matter where I dwell he is besides me, in this hell and outside, in the Garden of Eden where men continue to plunder the fruits that he provided us, and one day they will feel his wraith, but I will be saved for I have found God and his love. It wraps around me, bathing me in its warm embrace and I know that come the day of judgement, my soul will find salvation and those who have wronged me will dance with the devil, but they will not resist, for their will is not as strong as mine.
Whilst God has saved me, I cannot help but fear that those who once knew me have forgotten me, left me to my fate and I would not blame them, for I have long dwelled within this cage and long wished to leave it, but it is not my time yet. And then I hear it, a great sound which shakes the walls and revitalises my faith, my hopes, and my dreams. For they do not forget me, they call out to me, drowning out the cackles of the Devil and washing him from my mind and for a short moment I know they have no forgotten me as they call out to me, clear as day, the clouds broken for Gods salvation grows ever closer.
They call.
You’re Majesty. Henry.
Quote:
This is a monologue by Henry VI of England, King of the House of Lancaster during the Wars of the Roses. Henry suffered from mental instability and this is a description of his first bout of mental illness, you should spot some historical references and his obsession with religion. I am currently writing a murder mystery set during the wars, hopefully one that will become a series following a retainer in the Duke of York's household and found this and felt the need to share it, feel free to be critical if you wish.
