T’is all Hallows Eve.
I would tell you a fearful tale as is traditional of this time but the night is cold, the jars of ale have run dry, I am taken with boredom and my mind wanders to memories of things bygone.
Permit me then, to tell you a different kind of story, one based on both truth and legend and born of the evil that lives in the hearts of men.
Pay attention, for there is a lesson to be learned somewhere within it. I know not what it is but of its existence, I have no doubt.
And oh, this is no simple child’s tale… It is Halloween after all.
Once upon a time, in the land called Kragi, there lived a King whose heart was as black as the coal mines from which his kingdoms wealth and sustenance was extracted daily. He was an evil man – known to execute advisors on a whim and have his own concubines impaled upon stakes on the flimsiest suspicion of unfaithfulness.
As it came to pass, the king, despite his many sexual trysts and conquests, had only fathered one child in all his 31 years since crossing into puberty. And this child, this daughter, was nothing like him. The more careless tongues of the kingdom said that the king had birthed his own antithesis. Some said that his dearth of offspring and the great chasm of difference between himself and his daughter were evidence that nature had resisted proliferating any of his cruel genes and when forced to yield, she had done so reluctantly, giving him a creature that was as different from him as possible. Some said he had sold his virility to a tar pit demon in exchange for power and wealth. A great many things were said of this king but the only one upon which there was unanimous agreement was that his daughter was absolutely nothing like him. As with all strange things, the evil king came to love his kind daughter with a violent passion. It was clear for all to see in his eyes when he spoke of her. She was never far away from him and whenever he had cause to travel, she lacked for nothing in his palace.
One cruel day, while the sun scorched the people of Kragi and the king ventured out to inspect the mines, a servant by the name of Griori decided to inflict an evil injury upon the king in payment for the years of thankless toil and unmitigated suffering. You see, Griori was the child of one of the Kings concubines who had, in her spare moments, lain with a kitchen slave. It had displeased the king greatly when he discovered that he was sharing her pleasures with a one of his subjects. The king had ordered the kitchen slave to be dragged through the streets until he was nothing but a mass of peeling flesh and raw muscle. The concubine had been spared for she was pregnant but once Griori was birthed, and his parentage ascertained as being decidedly unkingly, she was drowned in boiling tar while her son became a slave boy in the king’s kitchens. Griori had suffered more than most for the unfortunate manner of his birth and had finally decided to end it all in one fell swoop of liberation and cruel vengeance.
He snuck into the princess’s chambers under guise of bringing food for her afternoon meal and once he was within, locked the door to the chambers with a concealed chain, leaving her personal bodyguard outside, struggling to get back in to protect his charge. Griori quickly drew his knife and slit the throats of the chambermaids before pouncing on the princess herself. He removed his bottom garments and forcefully entered her, thrusting into her virgin hole with all the repressed violence in his spirit. It was a cruel rape, and the screams of the princess rang out through the palace as she was violated repeatedly in punishment for her father’s wickedness. Griori did not spill his seed into her when was done with the first assault, he turned her over, carved his name into her back with his knife and rammed his still-stiff penis into her tiny, dry anus with such force that she began to bleed. He continued to thrust into the undersized hole with even more force than which he had used to take her maidenhead. After another few minutes, he finally turned her over again, almost lifeless, and returned himself into her womanhood until he finally spilled his seed into her, his grunts becoming louder than her screams. By this time, the entire palace was in an uproar and the princess’s personal guard had summoned a battering ram to break into the sealed chamber.
When the guards finally re-entered, they found the princess naked, lying on the floor bleeding from both orifices in her crotch, her back and her mouth, from which only whimpers escaped. There also was a manic Griori, pacing up and down the room, knife clutched firmly in his hand as he laughed and sang
“Kill me, Kill me, but she cannot accuse me. Kill me, Kill me, but she will have my baby”.
He was seized bodily, beaten violently and dragged to the dungeons to await the return of the King while the other guards took the princess to the palace physician. It was only when they reached the physician’s quarters that they finally realized the extent of Griori’s cruelty for the princess was now without her tongue. They drew lots to decide which of them would be forced to give their monarch this terrible news.
When the king returned from his mine inspections, the guard who had drawn the short straw began to tell of the incident that had occurred a few hours earlier. As he spoke, the eyes of the king begin to burn with a blue fire but he did not speak until the story was done. When the guard concluded, the king walked quietly to the physician’s quarters to confirm the truth of what he had heard. When he saw what was left of his precious child, he closed his eyes, turned around and walked to his throne silently. He sat upon it, placed his hands upon his head and let out a wail. It was a terrible sound, like the death cries of a once magnificent creature wallowing in newfound misery. He had the guards shut the entrance to the throne room and remained there, alone, weeping. No one in the palace slept that night for the cries of the king sent terror through the spines of all who knew him. The king had never wept before and they feared that once his pain was exorcised, he would ignite a conflagration of terrifying revenge, burning everything and everyone that he could ascribe any measure of blame to.
They were wrong.
Griori woke up the next morning in the most severe, unidentifiable pain. He could not move any part of his body except his head which he rotated around to take in his environment. He was in a dank, dark room with no illumination and a great mass of mould growing on the ancient brick walls. As he mentally tried to identify the source of his pain, the rusty metal door of the room creaked open and a man in a white robe walked in carrying a tray. Griori could tell from the smell that the tray carried cooked meat, prepared with the trichorican sauce that the king favoured. As the man in the white robe came closer to him, Griori realized that he was being served by the king himself. He saw that his chance had come and so he spat out the thing he had kept concealed in his mouth since he was dragged from the princess’s chambers – her tongue. It was his final insult to the man he loathed and the completion of his revenge.
The king, in his white robe, glanced at the partially masticated tongue on the floor of the room and turned back to Griori before placing the tray just below his head, within reach of his mouth. Griori was puzzled.
“I will be back in seven days…
…to take your other leg and cook it for you myself”
He turned on his heel, opened the door and Griori finally began to realize where the pain he felt was coming from and what his punishment was to be as a cold fear seized his heart.
“You will resist at first, I know. You will recoil at the thought of eating it, but when starvation, pain and desperation gnaw at the heels of your sanity, you will set aside your inhibitions and consume yourself. I do not doubt this. I only wonder how long you will last…”
He paused brieflybefore continuing.
“…and how much of you will be left when the end comes.”
He smiled as he left the room, speaking as he did.
“Next time, I will make sure that you are awake for the removal of your next meal”
As the door was shut, Griori began to tremble, his eyes locked on the tray of what had been his leg. Tears began to leave his eyes of their own volition and he shook visbily. He had been prepared to die for his revenge but this…?
This was a fate worse than death. It was a devils curse.