this is a story that begins on a throne. seated upon is a king, all alone. facing a window, looking out to a tree that was planted by evil to hang memories. under it's branches in a garden unkempt, the fruits that have fallen become bruises that squish under steps. ghosts in the walls of the castle recall the voices that used to sing out. but then a day came when the king hid away and the subjects were left to themselves. as the land all around slowly fell down the subjects longed to be free. the king that they loved fell asleep and would not wake up. so they revolted while the king was asleep. no bullets were shot except for one accident that brought the king out of his slump. the subjects explained their desire to leave and the heart of the king broke in two. now years have gone by and the distance grows wide so the king sits alone in his throne. at the garden, he stares. nothing grows but the fear that his story won't end happily.