Ashovania's Demon

Chapter 4

The poorest in society, such as Viola, can only walk or catch the bus to travel far. Hobos stay desperate by the train stations and bus stops. Mostly amputees confined to a wheelchair made of wood. It takes great effort to roll the wheels, even more, to roll with the punches. Usually, they are wounded soldiers from the war. One balding, decrepit bum, who's unable to speak, shakes his change cup vigorously. Viola overlooks it, hardened, she knows him. Hearing the rattling change go dimmer and dimmer, just like his lifeline.

Viola lands in front of a filthy hut in the middle of the city, with real households on both sides. She enters, nothing more than a bed, small kitchen, smaller closet, and one window. She releases a vast sigh and falls rearward on the mattress.

"If only my life were like theatre...and I the star."

She looks out the only window she has, which peers right into a semi-affluent family's dining room with lavish food and designs all around the table. Juxtaposed by a dozen manufacturing power plants, pumping endless amount of toxin into the atmosphere. The backbone of Alastair, life starved without the rune.

The child-like apparition with golden wings re-appears in front of her window, like an annoying neighbor, always asking for something. It hovers effortlessly into the trifling shanty. Viola steps back in revulsion.

"...not tonight. Let me be tonight," she begs the specter.

The spirit exhales out a blue mist that gently begins to fill the room. Viola inhales it, desperate for a smoke.

"It wasn't my fault... it wasn't my fault that you drowned. I was the only one that was supposed to die," she confesses.

"Mothers protect their children, even in death," whispers the apparition as it fades, taking the blue mist with it.

Viola takes off her shoes to reveal bruised and callused feet. She calmly places the shoes under her bed, where only two other pairs reside. Lying back on the bed she frees another cigarette from her front shirt pocket. Attempting to calm down, but ends up exhaling the blue mist.

"Great God of the Eternal, bless the late night smoke."

Our lovely one slips into a dream as the beautiful lights zoom past her open windowsill, littered with bent cigarette butts. In the fantasy she is sitting on a gold throne at the bottom of the ocean. Her eyes wide open. The water doesn't affect her. The child-like apparition runs up to her and places his head in her lap; she caresses him, there's a familiarity in the touch.

She notices more on the way. A few young girls, more little boys, all rushing to embrace her and have their head rubbed. The ghost-children begin to quarrel amongst themselves in competition. Viola shoots them a warming smile. While looking forward she sees a strong, built man ogling intensely with bright red eyes. She replies visually and her once-blue eyes transition to red as she peacefully awakes.

Our brightest star in the sky peeks its head over the mountaintops to locate him. The sunrays gloss the Prince's face as he lies gracelessly in a stiff wooden chair, next to his dying father's bedside. He's running off no sleep withbaggy red eyes. He begins to tear, but not from pain, and hears a loud bang at the door.

"What will you have of me? Cannot your Prince rest?" he grudgingly barks at the door.

"Even at the expense of your mother's free time?" an old woman's voice responds. Though her time was never free.

"Mother?"

"Yes, open this door poor child. The lack of sleep that burdens your mental should not be extended as your father painfully slumbers. Or do you not wish to see me son?"

"Of course mother, I do apologize."

The Queen, frail in stature, uncannily gorgeous face with sharp ocean blue eyes that all men loved to drown in, enters. Nothing but contempt and regret, looking at her weary son. Adjacent to her once strong now weak husband laying stone-still in his bedchamber. Many of the health members rush in behind her and start to re-construct and re-calibrate all the equipment hooked up to the King's body. It takes more than a village to keep him breathing.

"Listen child, I've spoken to a few people and may have come up with a way to solve your insomnia."

"Mother, I can solve my own problems," another lie. He tried though.

"Alas, you cannot solve anything, nor the war, restlessness; lack of love, even the easiest puzzle can cause turmoil to your distorted brain. Have you not heard the rumor mill swirling about? No one has faith in you, they think you've gone mad. Blame your father, it is not your doing."

"And what have you done to protect me mother? Aside from the criticizing, I shall hand you the shovel to bury me once father has occupied the hole in the ground first. You can lie atop both of us, since your pride is obviously higher than ours."

"Hmm, combined maybe? Hubris is important young Prince."

"So is action mother, and yours is non-existent."

"My action birthed you, did it not?"

"That's the only action you've been placed on this planet for."

"Are we going to bicker, or am I going to help you?"

"What news do you have?"

"I met with Atticus the Wizard, and he is hastily working on a potion or tonic if you will, to promote healthy sleep in you. He plans to stop by later and let you try a sample."

"A tonic? A sleeping potion? I hope you place your life as a payment for this man's trust. Or I shall truly have my final rest. Hopefully I'll dream of you mother, in my post-mortem slumber."

"Silence your wit son, before you run out of it, and cannot hook in your future princess, who shall become future queen, alas future me."

"Pray she isn't future you."

"Do you want the tonic or not? It is fool-proof. I bet my and your life on it. We cannot take another beating in this war or you can bet I will be clutching that handle tight on the shovel. I know you're not a soldier, but don't let the people know."

"Tell him to meet me at sunset. I will be here where you found me, next to father."

"Ok, I shall return tomorrow, the same time, and I want you to speak to me proper after having a full night's sleep. The kingdom is quiet today; the war is quiet for now, take advantage, son," the Queen advises as she kisses her son on the cheek.

"No matter the silence, I still hear The Battle of Osk Shallows," says the Prince.

"How...you weren't even there."