Marshall slowly blinked his eyes open only to be met by an infuriatingly white fluorescent light overtop of his head. He noticed that his back was bare and he was laid across a stiff, cold platform. His brain formulated a conclusion that the rigid, freezing surface that he lay on was some type of metal. Based upon the equipment that surrounded him and the awkwardly blank walls he could assume that he was in the medical ward of the palace. He slowly sat up on the bed noticing that he felt immensely better, however, it came at the price of drowsiness.”Rejuvenation Tank,” he muttered while stretching out his muscles and massaging his aches and pains. He leaped from the bed and began looking for his armor. He swiftly moved across the room to the counter harboring his armor finishing up by slipping his chest plate with an attached cape over his spiky raven hair and down his chub filled cheeks. He moved out of the room exiting the observation hallway.He gracefully slipped through the halls with ease despite his minor aches. In mere minutes he was exiting the extensive medical ward and on his way to the throne room.
The King kneeled upon the maroon rug, head bowed. He plastered his anger over with a stoic expression of nothingness. Upon the inside he was seething with aggression and irritation as he gazed upon the tyrant who lazily lounged in his throne.
His head lolled back over the arm as he propped up his feet upon the opposite arm. His black gloss lips were bound in a malicious smirk as he looked over at his subordinate. He slightly nodded his head as an acknowledgement of the King’s paid respects. He watched with scowling eyes as King Marshall stood glaring at him with discontent. His smirk widened and he proceeded to sit up in the gold coated throne deliberately slow. “My what a fine throne this is,” he said stroking the throne in a way that one would stroke a pet. “Such a shame that it is in the wasted use of the King of monkeys,” He tsked standing upright with vigor.
The King hadn’t even had the time to blink before he saw the fearsome tyrant below him.
Atop of Rocky’s head were to horns that pointed upwards and formed two sharp black spears that could pierce the heart of anyone who dare disrespect the monster. The tyrants glossed lips were a sickeningly dark purple, almost black, and were curled into a devious smile. The emperor glared up at him with two cold lifeless blood red eyes, that feasted upon the soul of each of the overlords victims. Rocky was no doubt much shorter than the King standing at something around 5 feet, but Rocky didn’t need height to intimidate his opponents, in fact his small made the idea of his immense power all the more unnerving. Rocky’s pink skin made the tyrant appear as if he had crawled out straight from hell and burned off all of his flesh in the process. As for all those who knew of Rocky one fact was indisputable, he was the devil.
The King held his breath as the tyrant began to pace away slowly drawing out each step. Once he stood about a foot away he laxed and looked at Rocky as if he was waiting to be reprimanded. He tensed yet again when he heard the pats of footsteps within the hallway leading to the throne room. He quickly threw his head in order to see the hallway in which the soft noise had resided.
As Rocky paced across the throne room prepared to give the King a fierce tongue lashing he caught the King's gaze falter to the hallway. Moving to the where the King’s gaze had fallen. He peered into the cascading dark. “Ooh, what do we have here?” Rocky exclaimed smirking deviously at the king as he slowly eased himself into the hallway.
YOU ARE READING
Little Prince
Short Story5 year old Prince Marshall is a true prodigy. With strength that rivals the strongest of his race he is set to ba a great ruler. But what happens when Marshall is left on his own to defend himself and his race against the tyrannical rocky? How can o...
