a fool's folly

In the times of ancient Europe, great hunger and famine, bloody battles for land, and towering empires, there was a growing kingdom deep in a great war. Warm gore and brains coated the blades of grass like the morning dew, rotting corpses littered about the streets, and the stench was horribly rancid. The kingdom’s soldiers became weaker and weaker everyday; as they were slowly losing their footing against colonizing armies. The situation was dire.

The king, believing his conquest to be anointed by the Lord, refused to let his men fall back, despite the losing battle. All the while the kingdom begged and supplicated for the monarchy to give up the conquest and focus their energy on restoration. These conflicting desires were all filtered through the kingdom’s fool.

No juggling and dancing can cover up misery and mass slaughter.

The fool begged to differ.

The jester, clever and bright, interpreted the Kingdom’s troubles and greatly entertained the king. Every night, the court would howl with laughter, with the fool evading death in the sound of thundering applause. After months of great entertainment, the kingdom only further descended into ruin, and the people’s discontent reached a climax. They had realized that their words were not taken seriously, interpreted as jokes, and treated with disrespect.

What else was the fool supposed to do?

He just wanted to survive.

Thus, the people decided to make a stand against the only barrier against them and the throne.

—

As the sun dipped into the horizon, the people staged a coup against the throne. Stars hung from the wine-dark sky as the king brought the fool out to the gardens. The king and his fool walked through hanging trees and bushes with glistening fruit as the monarch celebrated the jester. He discussed with the fool about granting him land nearby the castle and gifting him riches beyond his imagination.

“The people are being disparaged,” The fool thought.

“I do not deserve this.”

Dark smoke consumed the air as flames burned the castle behind them with a fierce rage. The people infiltrated the castle, slaughtering guards and attendants, and decimating the lavish decorations. Peasants gorged themselves with the court’s delicious food, blacksmiths stripped the armory of glorious weapons and armor, and the rioters set everything aflame. However, they were all focused on their goal.

Find the fool. Kill him.

Without their king to direct them, the castle’s court fell to the wrath of the people. They infiltrated the gardens and a crowd gathered around the king and the fool. The king, under the impression that they were coming to slaughter him, surrendered the fool to the citizens. Completely unaware that he was giving them exactly who they wanted.

The fool, betrayed by his king, was dragged out into the streets and tossed into a corner. The jester was mercilessly beaten by stones, pelted with spoiled fruit, and drowned in the jeers of the citizens, filled with unrelenting fury.

As the crowd dissipated, abandoned and left half-dead, the fool’s eyes fluttered up as his gaze landed upon an ethereal woman. In the fool’s blurred vision, her robes were god-like and sparkling, glimmering under the sun. With a shaky hand, he reached out toward the angelic figure.

“I beg of you. Please have mercy. Do not confuse my body for a rabid beast, for the kingdom has disfigured me.” The Fool spoke with wit. “If you are a goddess, which you appear to be, I beg of you a favor. In return, I shall serve you forever.”

The woman, taking pity on the broken clown, decided to help the poor man. “You are dying. I can grant you new life, for a price.”

“Anything.” The Fool croaked, hot blood dribbling down from their lips. “I will grant you anything within my power.”

She bent down and picked up a stone covered with the blood of the jester. “You have served the lap of evil to save your own life. You hold fault for the agony of the kingdom. What a horrible existence. The gods have cursed you to serve someone greater than you forever.” She rubbed her thumb against the smooth stone, swiping the gore off. “A living shadow.”

The fool’s arm dropped, with his fingers twitching. He had no energy left to scream, weep, or force out another word. The woman poured sweet slumber into his aching body. Mistaking the darkness for death, the fool’s eyes misted, and a tear washed a trail into the dried blood on his cheek.

—

The fool awoke, though the light did not greet him. Instead, he was engulfed in cruel abyss, and was unable to move.

“Do not fret, fool.” The sweet voice from the merciful goddess traveled in the air. “I have kept my promise. You are alive.”

“What have you done with me?”

“You are in my domain. I am the fairie of the lake, and you will help me with a prophecy. There is a great sword that will be lodged in your heart. Though, no person will able to release your pain until you let it go.” After she spoke, she slid the sword inside, piercing the Fool’s heart. The pain was agonizing, yet dull and miserable, like an abandoned corpse.

“Much like the kingdom you turned your back on, you shall be abandoned for centuries. Men will boast about saving you, but none will be able to rescue you. You can’t even save yourself.”

“Will it hurt more if someone takes it away?”

Alas, the wind carried the fool’s voice away, along with the voice of the sweet woman.

And so, the fool lived forever.

Alone.