zaterdag 8 november 2014

The Rose and its Sentry (part1)

She was Emperor in her own right; the lands she ruled were so many and so vast, that she declared her emperorship being beyond common gender. She loved to be in charge. Higher than she none ever could rise; even the star of Alexander the Great himself could have been shining brighterand higher than hers, she absolutely knew. Those schmucks that had called her once "on top of the heap"  she personally decapitated. Just for fun. It was  good to be Emperor with a capital 'E'. 

Of course being Emperor had some minor disadvantages, like being obliged to residing over the court  in very remote areas. Although 'obligation' wasn't the right phrase related to 'Supreme Royal Majesty' (none dared to use the possessive pronouns 'Her' or "His"!), she still had to go on this merry go round at least  once in every four years.  The last of these awfully tiring journeys already had taken place more than four years ago.  The Emperor was very much aware of this breach in Supreme Governmental Protocol, bumping up and  down on her royal well cushioned coach bench. Feeling neglected she tried to look tfrough the dust covered  windows.  Maybe,  máybe, these unknown parts of her empire outside this coach were able to inspire her, to lighten up her sprits, to ... to ... the Emperor didn't know what ..

Then,  just at that specific moment in time, she saw this rose, a beautiful intense red coloured rose in the centre of a dusty, colourless marketplace. The Emperor inhaled sharply. This was a gift of paradise. This was a sensorial oasis in the cultural wilderness of the outback.  Hèr  outback,  hèr oasis,  hèr rose. She slowly let the heated air pass her smiling lips.

Suddenly, everything started to happen very fast. The Emperor yelped. The coach stopped. 182 bodyguards watched out for propable villains. The Emperor spoke. The mayor of this wretched village came running as fast as his untrained legs could support him.  The Emperor demanded. The mayor summoned his most trusted fellow villager.  The  Emperor assigned. The freshly appointed Sentry bowed as deep as possible. He still was too drowsy (brutally awakened from a sensual dream about the mayor's eldest) to grasp more than 10 percent of what was happening. However what did penetrate into his awakening conscious was the fact that he would be rewarded financially till the end of time. The Emperor left.

The existence of this nameless village she remembered for allmost 49 minutes. The image of the rose she treasured was in her mind for most part of her tour; that helped to survive. Back in the empire's capital she didn't have time for remberering anymore. Higher politics and courtial pleasantries needed her attentions every moment of her waking life. The Emperor did know how to dream. The Emperor forgot all about this redder than red rose far away. She never visited this village with this rose again,  that is to say, she never ever realised passin through. Her Privat Assistent however had written down all her vocal expressions. Back in the capital he transformed these into Emperial Decrees, Aministrative Procedures and Conclusive Actions.
So, within seconds after Her Supreme Royal Exit, this beautiful rose in the far eastern outback was guarded and protected by its own Sentry. Within days this Sentry had been provided by his duty's parafrenalia: sentry boot, uniform and arms. His first salaris (in cash) was handed over to him by the village mayor himself. The money (guaranteed till the end of time) was enough to accept him as future son in law.  The mayor's eldest, his meant to be bride,  accepted him dutifully. He even got himself a new name. Proudly he started to introduce himself to others as Sentry I.

to be cont'd 

inspired by Rico Bulthuis' novel "The Sentry and the Rose"