Saturday, January 5, 2013


As he sat on his throne, surveying his kingdom, the warm sun climbed over the horizon, melting the morning frost wherever its rays touched. A prisoner of a fate not his own, he still knew himself to be king.
            The years had been long, and the times had been harsh, but his status had remained unchanged. Regardless of events, he was still a ruler.
            His subjects had remained with him through it all. Unmovable, they were destined to be with him until the end.
            He reminisced about days long past. He thought of the times of his youth, of traveling the country with his most loyal retainers. They were young and powerful and unchallenged wherever they went. Adoration and admirations were always the greetings they had been met with. Those days seemed to stretch on forever.
            Then abruptly they ended.
            No longer did he roam the countryside. No longer was he praised or adored.
            A trapped monarchy of a trapped people was what he had become.
            These days to seem seemed to continue without end.
            Then abruptly they too ceased.
            This time the end came with a low rumble and quake. It arrived in the form of mighty behemoths. In less than a day, the king and all of his retinue were whisked away to a far away place.
            They arrived in darkness but soon found themselves bathed in light.
            Then the assault came.
            They were attacked in various ways. They were torn asunder. Nothing more than skeletons, the end seemed to have finally arrived.
            And then the miracle happened.
            Slowly, carefully, piece by piece, the king and his subjects found themselves returned. But they were not merely returned to how they had been. Instead, they were completely reborn. It was as if the hands of time themselves had been turned back.
            Once again they found themselves roaming the country side. Time had changed the landscape drastically, but some things never change. There was still the praise and respect from the time long ago.

            As the toll booth operator handed the driver his change, he whistled in appreciation.
            “That’s sure a beautiful old Caddy you got there,” he said.
            “Found it in an old farmer’s field. He had a fleet of them,” replied the driver. “A little t-l-c, a few new parts, and a lot of elbow grease and they’re good as the day they rolled off the assembly lines.”

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