The Return

Chapter 1 - The Horizon

So, this is my first story here. Please leave any constructive criticism you can, and please be kind about it. Thank you. You may begin.

"My lord, my lord - it is time to awaken", the clock spewed, becoming increasingly louder as it continued to squeal.

My eyes cracked open, the baby blue ceiling welcoming  me within it's sights. From the large open window that sat in front of my chambers, cracks of dawn left shadows on the ceiling and surrounding blue walls. I stared for what it felt like hours.

How I so wish to go back to bed.

The alarm began to increase in tempo and volume. From the quiet whisper it began as, it continued to grow shriller and shriller, tempting my patience. The clock began ringing in my ears like a bell, pounding against me like a marching drum.  The phrase from the alarm repeated more and more, blending into the noise of the clock. I couldn't move. I didn't want to. But the noise - oh god, the noise. It's not stopping, it's not stopping, make it stop, please-

"ENOUGH!"

I gripped it with bulging forearms, and slammed it into the marble floor. Bits of glass and other material scattered across the room. The crack of the broken clock echoed around the bedroom. I could still hear it slightly begin to whisper it's programmed phrase now, choking back the eventual mechanical shutdown. Smaller, smaller, smaller - it continued to struggle until the machine finally died, it's novelty lights dimming to black. It rattled, and fell silent. Thank god.

My head fell back against the pillow, shifting back to my sleeping phrase. I closed my eyes in frustration, but couldn't sleep, due to the rush of energy in my arms. I had to think.

"Should I even get out of bed, and be dressed? I didn't deserve these robes - my father did, but he was already gone, gone to the heroes above our grey skies. Do I face my city - the city of progress, while also being alone? Do I awaken in pride that I still woke up, or anger that I didn't pass in my slumber? Perhaps I should stay in bed. Yes, that's it. My citizens will forget me, like they did with our neighbors to the south, and I can finally begin to fade in everlasting slumber. It could work. Yes, I could make it work-"

"No. No, I couldn't. Luck never favored me before - why would it now? Besides, my maids will haul me out soon. I can't escape. I couldn't."

My thinking time was over. Rousing myself from my bed, I began to stretch my back, the bones creaking under pressure. It felt relieving, yet painful. Perhaps it was because I knew I still felt pain. Perhaps, maybe relief. It was enjoyment, under my displeasing situation. I will need to see the outside soon - but, at least I could feel something under these circumstances. Thank the gods for that.

"If I am to suffer, let me at least look presentable", I told myself, signing briefly.

I dragged myself towards the oval mirror, it's shining molded, golden sides shining. I looked at my features, to see what man I was. Perhaps I dreamed my life, and I was just another lonely citizen, and someone else had my burdens. Sadly, I was wrong.

The stress of the last few months aged me. My once jet-black hair, combed to the left, was beginning to grey. My blueish skin began to develop wrinkles on my cheeks. I was molding. I didn't look young - yet I was only 30. My father looked the same at this age. I always made fun of him when this happened. Yet now - I could finally see why he had turned into that. He didn't look good in his later years, either. His hair was white by the age of 40. I had facial surgery to hide my scars. I had makeup to cover the bags under my eyes. I had a crown to cover my graying hairline. Yet - I knew it wasn't forever. Soon, my scars will become more noticeable. My bags will become darker. My hair will become white, with my crown given to kin. I can't destroy it, but I don't want to live with it. Please, god, don't let me live with it.