To My Golden Throngs, a Sudden Fiction Story

There once was a lion, so tall and grand, with glossy eyes and long ochre mane. Beloved he was, the golden king, with his thunderous roar and mighty claws.

The king would rise to escort the sun. He beat the wind from right under his paws. His lapping tongue stirred the seas; they churned, erecting mountains from the dust of his hide.

His voice awakened the mighty heavens, his enormous tail carving valleys in his stride. The lion’s sweat watered the forests and his countenance answered his people’s penance.

Then one dark day, an enemy slipped in. An ancient serpent sought to slay the king. The enemy struck as he laughed, each thrust filled with poison and lust. Then as the king’s dying cries shook the foundations of the earth, the serpent smirked, a victor at last.

The king was dead, lost, defeated he fell, never to rise for his life the snake had quelled. The people cried as his body did rot, and then up in flames, the serpent scorched the lion’s head.

In the darkness the enemy spread his malice; from the shadows, he consumed their gloom. Then as their tears flowed, they washed the king’s ashes to the seas beyond the waves. The ashes sank, blackened and dark, and disappeared from the land, from their grasp, from their love.

Then from the waters there rose a golden glow, ochre hair, and a thunderous roar. Mighty claws gripped the shore and a whipping tail stirred a hurricane. The king arose from the tears of his subjects, larger, faster with teeth borne in clusters. Behind him, the mighty waters he bore to vanquish the ancient serpentine sneak.

The lion ripped and snarled, scratched, and clawed then with one swallow, the snake was devoured. The king had claimed his rightful throne, he had risen up amidst the throngs’ calls.

Standing before them in a fiery show of rippling muscle and opulence galore, he shone brighter, fairer, and younger; their king once more would roam in awe. Not because of his mighty, flashy blows, but in gratitude for his peoples’ moans.

They had called him back; empowered him and made him stand here strong, adored. He roared golden magic, pure life back at them, for they had made him eternal, and with them, he’d rule evermore.

The End

Leave a Comment

Scroll to Top