Wooden King Me
"I see!" he told me that night. "I see that you certainly don't know where you are. You think that simple unfortunate fame you achieved is the greatest of successes, but the truth is, like a false wooden king on a grey chess board, you're trapped, and only allowed to move your feet to a step, but no further, and on each and every step around, you should see a sword that pops a dark smoke out, waiting for you to make that one step, so that it can behead you cleanly. While those of whom you left behind, the enlightened bishops and the broken knights, even the dying soldiers, march forward... forward towards a greater success, without the sword of pain and regret put on their way, you’ll remain in that deep darkness forever, struggling to make that single step!"
I remember laughing at the words of that old man, and now, sitting inside the shade I built from stripped clothes, staring at the empty street without looking, and so depressed even to commit suicide, I started laughing, and didn’t stop till the laugh turned to tears.
“Hail to king me!” I shouted to the moaning wind and dropped backwards… backwards to the even deep darkness.