By Pedro Guerra

From Dawn til Dusk, the servant served all that came his way.

The 4 corners of the Gray Hall were his world. Here he learned of the lesser ones, here he took his first steps, here he learned it takes a person 5 minutes to die from a 6 inch blade and over an hour to bury them, he learned the importance of restraining from love and general affection.

It was his 25th year. He longer wondered about the outside world. He was sure it was nothing more than some other Master’s Gray Hall, with its own set of rules, more room to walk around means nothing when you can’t actually go anywhere else. I know this is the case. The Master receives many visitors mostly from the lesser ones, and they don’t go any farther than their farm lands and The Master’s Estate. It’s simple to keep people in their loop trying to complete all their tasks under the impression that one day they will be free to see the world. Freedom is a good motivator but makes for any even better Warden.

Up until this year, life had been a single moment. All my memories were of a single event stretched into 24 years. Purpose is a lie devised as a buffer between Graves. Everything perceived to matter is made by those who don’t want to do the work and need the lesser, so they dress it up, add a tag line and what would otherwise be seen as a chore or punishment is masked as an attainment.

I take no issue with the life I’ve led to this point. It can seem dreary, but It’s no worse than anyone else’s. I’d almost feel proud of the fact that I know what others don’t, but that false sense of superiority is just another contrivance by The Master’s.

I never thought it’d happen in my time. It rarely ever does throughout history, but every few hundred years there’s a shift in the True Order that irregularity can be noisy and noise draws attention and if it’s loud enough it can clear the head of turbulence offering brief clarity to the lesser, within that window of clarity veiled eyes get undone, filthy hands close, becoming fists, teeth grit with frenzy. The realization rips them briskly from their generational slumber they see now, and that sets of a chain reaction as everything begins to fall into place. Their secret rage found the culprit, the source.

Suddenly and very quickly, real freedom erupts and instantly corrupts all those who taste it, mistaking evil for individual expression.

To Be Continued…