ArtsAutosBooksBusinessEducationEntertainmentFamilyFashionFoodGamesGenderHealthHolidaysHomeHubPagesPersonal FinancePetsPoliticsReligionSportsTechnologyTravel
  • »
  • Books, Literature, and Writing»
  • Commercial & Creative Writing»
  • Creative Writing

Emperor Rage: A Short Story: Part Two: Death Verses

Updated on December 15, 2016
wingedcentaur profile image

The first step is to know what you do not know. The second step is to ask the right questions. I reserve the right to lean on my ignorance.


My Brothers

My Brothers

My brothers turned me out of the house of our fathers

They did this when I but loved them all

I flew as the wind on their appointed behalf

Exploring and trading and plundering and conquering

In this way I put knowledge in their books and gold in their vaults

I went where only the strong could go at first

Blazing the trail for the weak to follow next

I opened commerce and traffic with new and strange and wonderful beings

Who, through me, conferred many blessings upon my brothers

But I grew weary and sought to lay down my burden

I said to them: "Brothers, I have come back to be with you and claim

My share of the birthright and inheritance."

They said to me: "Take off your shoes in the house of our fathers, you foreign dog!"

I said to them: "Brothers, beloved of me, do you not know me? It is I, kin to you."

They said to me: "Your clothes are smutty with the stardust of the vagabond wanderer."

I said to them: "I have been laboring for our people and seek rest and reunion."

They said to me: "You are no kin to us. You are wild and uncouth. You are barbarous and uncivilized. You are savage and unfamiliar with the ways of proper society. Take your shoes and leave the house of our fathers. We no longer have any use for your kind."

I said to them: "Very well, my brothers. But I renounce you doubly so. I will go but I will return, I swear by the Second Resurrection. Beware, my brothers. You will all perish in fear and trembling. For when I am done with you, you will be a haunting even unto ghosts."

The true story of a man called Jacob, his brothers, and a land called AEgyptos.


Sometime before the Second Resurrection....

The Adventurer

Emperor Rage had provided that they be entertained with a poetry reading. A collection of some of his favorite death verses, sometimes called 'Revenge Meter.' Collected from across the galaxies and across the ages.

Everybody was made comfortable and served refreshments. Emperor Rage had reserved something special for himself: a very potent, thick, spicy-sweet ale with the aroma of cedar and wild grass, mixed with accentuating drops of shark blood.

A platform was drawn into the forefront of the space. A long, lean figure stepped up. The spotlight revealed a youth, perhaps just entering the first flush of manhood. Armed to the teeth: two long swords on his back; various throwing knives; a battle hammer; and a blaster on each hip. Dressed menacingly but functionally in leather. The right side of his head shaved. A thick, black 'X' mark across his clean-shaven face. He took a dramatic pose and recited the following poem.....


Vengeance is My Sweet Nectar

Vengeance is My Sweet Nectar

Vengeance is my sweet nectar

To you, my brothers, go the pit

I swear by the Second Resurrection,

Your time will come

When I put you face down into the ground

I will yet chop off your heads

And make them wind-chimes in a garden of corpses

Lord Volcanus, upon being censured by the Senate of New Neptune, for alleged corruption

circa 3300 S.C.C. (Sex Change of Christ)

In the Wilderness

The next to take the stage was a man of middle years, lean and scraggly of appearance. He had a large wine-serving gourd strapped to his back. He grabbed the straps, fell to his knees, and with his eyes held aloft, recited the following poem.....


Ninety-Nine Men

Ninety-Nine Men

Ninety-Nine Men turning a wheel

Ninety-Nine Men no longer feel

Three and eleven are blind

Three and eleven are deaf

Three and eleven are mute

The Hundredth Man is dead

He got the better of the deal

A boy playing with a toy

Before the First Resurrection.... A time when the species was in its infancy...


The next to take the stage was a lad, a still high-voiced young man. Earnest and sincere, and accompanied by a warrior, who rhythmically banged the hilt of his sword against his shield, the boy recited the following poem...


My Rage

My Rage

My Rage keeps me warm at night

My Rage hugs and holds me tight

My Rage is my alpha and omega

My Rage is my vindication

My Rage is my summit and depth

My Rage is my confirmation

My Rage is the air that I breathe

My Rage is the sunlight I drink

My Rage is the nourishment I take

My Rage is all that I live for

Know this, my brothers, when I come for you

As the Harvester of Souls

You dared to turn me out of the house of our fathers

I shall bury you under it, brick-by-brick

And make you curse your lives as folly

Emperor Rage

His constant state of mind....

Savage Justice

The next to take the stage was a goddess, if there ever was one. Powerfully but gracefully built. Long and lean and taut. Very tall, a towering presence. All endless arms and legs and swan-like neck.

She wore an animal skin of some kind and carried a shield and spear. She recited the following poem.....


It went on and on like that. For the next morning, the next afternoon, and the next evening. And the next. And the next. And the next.

An almost four-day lyrical blood orgy.

However, Emperor Rage is not a wholly beastly host. There was jesters, juggling, acrobatics, orchestral music. There were other diversions and sumptuous delicacies. But still, through it all, one costumed performer after another took to the stage to recite the fury of Emperor Rage.

But His Majesty had not been sullen and downcast in front of his guests. He felt that the poems he had selected, in addition to capturing the fury that had driven him, had the added benefit of possessing genuine literary merit. He mumbled something about how examining the darker side of life, from time to time, made one appreciate life's joys all the more. Something like that.

When it was tactfully permissible to do so, Emperor Rage retired to his quarters. He gorged himself on shark blood ale, got stinking drunk by himself, threw up quietly in his toilet, flopped on his bed without changing into nightclothes, and cried himself to sleep.

End of Part Two.


    0 of 8192 characters used
    Post Comment

    No comments yet.