Eternal Longing

Arctis Coombs

TW: Cannablism, Body Horror, Death.

“Thud! Thud! Thud!” The sounds of loud footsteps making their way through the lavish walls, colored in velvety red, and gold lines. Windows framing the afternoon sun sat across from portraits of many people, man and woman, wearing crowns looking every bit the part of a royal. The opposite of the man running raggedly through the halls a ripped piece of paper, brown in color held tightly in his hand, his hair wet with sweat and flat to his forehead. His crown siting uneven on his head, his pupils wide with a desperate clinging need as he rushes through the long halls, his footsteps banging against the ground. Taking a left, then a right, then a left, till he was walking into the kitchen with a monstrous aggression, slamming the paper onto the counter. 

“Slam!” The sound echoes through the kitchen. Making the Chef, wearing a brown apron and the stench of poverty jump. 

“Tonight's dinner will be this recipe, you can use that vile beast in the dungeons!” he heaths, his tongue slipping through his teeth mimicking that of a snake. His pupils narrowing into manic slits.

“S-sir!? That's the equivalent of preparing a human to eat!” he stammers out his eyes wide at the king's disheveled look, and the sheer audacity of his ungodly suggestion. 

“Did I ask for the moral claims of my order, or did I give an order!?” The king’s breathing hard, his face red. 

 “Y-you gave an order, sir. It's just, how do I even-” “Thud!” The king's hand slams against the counter once more, as he leans over the chef, so close the chef could feel the ragged rhythm of his breath.

“Do I need to have you replaced with someone more competent? Or can you handle following a simple recipe?” The king's voice heavy as his breath, cutting through the shaking chef's words. 

 “Don’t you believe that this is cruel? Killing and eating what’s basically a human for some potential godhood?” the chef exclaims, still trembling, his eyes glancing frantically around the kitchen space. 

“My acts of cruelty won’t matter once I’m a god, so make the meal. I won't ask again.” the king seethes, he turns to leave the kitchen, the door swinging shut behind him in a loud “Slam!” leaving a trembling chef, his eyes shifting to the ripped paper the king had slammed into the counter. With a sigh to calm the shaking, he began preparing the recipe 

The bright morning light peaking through the clouds in harsh rays of golden onto a bored king who sits listening to public complaints about his royal empire, and the many stains he didn't care enough to fix. It had been exhilarating when his father died of a sudden illness and he was crowned king, but now the power sat soaking in a boring feeling that weathers his bones. The king sighed, waving on an older shepherd woman, telling her to speak. 

The same light of the sun shines through the trees in the forest on the outskirts of the kingdom, golden beams piercing through the leaves, shining off the morning dew in a reflective beauty that illuminates the dark forest. The sound of leaves crunching, and a river flowing off to the east a doe and her fawn drinking from its clear waters. Long shadowy fingers with too many joints to be human shrouded in shadows, its fingers grip a tree, nails digging into its surface before lifting with sound like nails on a chalkboard as it wanders through the forest, the world seemingly unaffected by its presence. Seeking with a desperate feeling to fill its stomach, hollow as it’s been for centuries. After all this time of wandering and starving its eyes set upon a kingdom, The kingdom of Apaditas. A city with towering buildings, and a castle nestled at the center, standing above all. It was a sight to behold, held perfectly under the gazes of the sun, as if praised by a god.

Within the castle upon a throne sat the king, his crown hung on his head, soldiers broad with pride and power. The sounds of a regular day, millions lined up, wearing garments of purple and gold, wigs worn tall. The king was bored of this, everyday these nobles lined up to plead for his favor, for his power. The fix on his face was flat, his mouth curves down, eyes glancing off to the side in boredom as he waves on the nobles, denying most if not all of them, watching as they plead for his help. This used to hold joy, watching them beg and sob, now he wanted more. Constantly hungry, constantly dissatisfied with the repetition, he craves something new… 

The same shepherd woman stood in front of him, her clothes stained with work, and face painted forever tired. Her newborn infant in a sling over her shoulder. “Please sire, I beg of you to send some of the guards out to the outshirts, our sheep keep getting attacked by something, something too big to be a wolf.” she pleads with the king, his eyes rolling in response.

“You're demanding my aid for your failure to properly protect your shee-” “BANG!!” 

The doors to the throne room swing open the guards trying to stop what looks to be a thing at the brink of death. It groaned and grunted, its face shaded in dark, limbs turning black with age, its body spindly and broken up by just its joints, as shadows fray off its body despite being frail, it’s shoved the guards even as they took aim with their crossbows, loaded, and fired. 

“Food…. I need food, so hungry.” It breathes out, breathing a heavy release as its long fingers reach out, towards the king. A guard lunges grabbing its arm before it could reach for the king, soon others follow, pinning it down as it breathed and struggled for food. 

“I-its the t-thing that keeps attacking our sheep, sir” The woman spoke, panicking, and stumbling back as the guards held its limbs down, her hands instinctively moving to protect her baby as she looked at the awful creature. 

“Put it in the dungeons” the king spoke, already standing up from his seat, eyes wide and blazing. the guards haul it up from the floor, it’s long legs dragging against the floor as it goes limp. 

The sizzling of water on the stove echoed through the kitchen with the grunts of the chef, who was following the kings thrown recipe barely readable on the old page that had been hurriedly ripped from the book in the king's frantic desperate rush, the heavy fragrance of flowers, and just indescribable beauty soaked the air. 

The king filled with a manic light made his way down the stairs, the evening light of the distant sun setting echoed through the windows, before they traveled too low for it to be seen. The dungeons dark, lit by torches, this creature was awake. 

“So hungry…” it breathed as the king came face to face with it, only the thick bars of the cell separated the two as the creature reached for him.

“Vile Beast.” the king spat. “You're so disgusting in nature, you should be glad to be used for my greatness. Through you I shall ascend to god hood.” the king spoke manically. A sharp laugh echoes through the room as the shifting shadows of the creature still, revealing a face in the mat of drenched black hair, almost grey skin and blood shot eyes. 

“Ah, a seeker of immortality?” the beast replied in a manic laugh. “Immortality often comes at a cost, what is it you think there is to gain from an immunity to death?” the creature breathed through his laughs. 

“Its the ultimate power to live immortally, something like you could never understand the desperation, and constant fear humans have of this simple thing called death. To be immortal is to truly be free.” the king replied, eliciting more maniacal laughter from the creature he stood across from.

“Seconds before I showed up you were a bored king, dismissing people's basic needs of aid, and now that I'm here you think immortality is the best option, but what will you do when you're eternally bored, with nothing left to concur or destroy? Will you live in eternal boredom!?” the creature added, laughing as it had clearly struck a nerve in the king. His shocking shaking with rage. 

“Eternal Boredom? Huh? Is that your threat? When I'm immortal, I'll be able to do whatever I want to whoever I want, how could anyone get bored by that!?” the king spoke manically as he turns his back on the creature, waving for the guards “Guards, take it to the kitchen.” The king watching with manic satisfaction as the creature's face is engulfed. “I warned you” it breaths in the shadowy overtaken voice, as it is dragged away up out of the dungeon, its long, shadowy limbs reaching out to claw at the walls. The last thing it utters was its cries of agony as it was dissolved into the stew. 

Pushing open the double doors that led to the Royal library, the walls and space filled, and lined with row after row of books, speeding past, into a back corridor where barely any light reached, lighting a candle carrying it in the holder over to the books covered in cobwebs, scanning the names for the word, a single word. “Immortals”. 

Latching his finger into the edge of the book, the rough material of the old, withering cover scratching at his skin, it's a purple unassuming book. Pulling it down dust spills from the shelf, and his fingers holding the book were left grey with dust. Walking over to a table the king places the book down, across its cover was a golden hanging man, like the tarot card, forever hanging. These beings had one name, “The children of the Hangman” The hangman, a god known mostly for its cruelty in leading his followers to suffer. Those who had once been human, left to forever wander, Yet the appeal was there. Eating the flesh of its children could grant him immortality like no other. 

This is what the king was waiting for a break from the mundane, with this he could be a god, no longer a slave to the people, but a being of pure power. A righteous one made from the skulls he sat upon.

The feast that night was magnificent, the king was served a nice savory meat, drenched in the depths of a dark stew, sprinkled with petals of various flowers, purple in color, and vegetables layered the stew. With a shaky, adrenaline-filled hand the king brought the first bite to his lips, sipping the broth that exploded on his tongue in a flavor so wonderful it warms the body, a feeling of almost immediate lightweightness fell over the king, as if his mortality had already been lifted from his soul.

“Crash!” 

The king fell forward, his breathing shallow, mouth foaming with the very immortality he had wished for. What could be more immortal than death?