Rain [Short Stories]

The Ballad of a King

He seemed to even sway differently as his sword easily passed from hand to hand. His boots were the only noise besides his haunting, melodic voice echoing around his ancient throne room. He sung freely, weighted words jingling and falling against the floor.
He paced.
That stayed the same.
Alastair Moon always paced when there was something on his mind, something troubling his person. He just wasn't himself and hadn't been for a while. He was truly a terror when he wasn't himself.
No one was listening to him.
He knew this sort of thing bothered no one else more than it bothered Alan. But Al never said anything if no one wanted to listen to him. Cries for help? Silenced. Pleas? Hushed. Questions? Unanswered. He took it silently and tried time and time again to voice his thoughts, needs, emotions. No one listened. Iridesa hadn't. Roseanna hadn't. Even Honey didn't seem to really hear him lately and this gave him the sickening feeling of loneliness.
He wanted to melt.
He wanted to seep through the floorboards and lay quietly amongst the dirt and forgotten crumbs that even mice didn't want. It made him feel so unbelievably small and he hated it more than anything.
Alastair Moon often let himself get out of hand. Over-dramatic perhaps. But maybe people should listen to an incensed Artificial Demon before they hear the chilling 'clink' of his sword opening.
He opened with a deep, dark chuckle that echoed fantastically around his throne room.
The Tower seemed to shiver
"Finally, an audience," he crooned, his jewelry tinkling pleasantly through the choked air. He turned sharply at the shallow steps of his throne and paused, his boots making soft whispering noises on the slick floor.
When his sharp green glare swiped over the room, it would have stopped your heart and brought you harshly, breakingly, to your knees.
The only members of his audience were dead bodies. Blood blinked against the back of his eyelids and it flashed neon on his too pale hands. The tip of his sword dragged faintly on the wet porcelain floor, the soft ringing from it accompanying his voice.
"Will you listen now?"