The Golden Castle

Majestic waves slosh around the shore, the sound of it crashing onto the soft, warm sand ringing in the nearby people's ears. The royal blue of the water was illuminated by the scintillating sun shining down on it.

White foam looked like whipped cream, swallowed then reappearing every now and then by the more dominant azure sea. The Golden Castle's walls stood tall and sturdy, the magical gleam of the resplendent walls shining along the sun's rays.

Curious eyes stared long at the Castle, the reflected luminescence temporarily blinding the hazel, blue and raven-coloured eyes for a moment, though eventually, the overwhelming beauty of all of it swallowed their pain and their eyes shone too, as they admired the beautiful piece of alluring architecture.

No one knew, however, the barbarous behaviour inside, and the silenced screams lisped from scared mouths, the painful tortures, the merciless words of harshness happening within the elegant walls.

Jones White laughed a maniacal, psychotic laugh, scaring the other humans in his presence. A whip was in his grasp, lashing out every time a word of complain or a beg for mercy was heard.

The slightly mutilated men now stood on their knees, trembling from fear and vulnerability. The merciless man whipped his whip again, and the men yelled exclamations of perpetual agony.

"You- Better- Listen- To- Our- Master-" White said, emphasising his words with a flog of his whip. The weaker men crumpled and begged for forgiveness, their words uttered quietly. "Y- Yes, sir, we will, we will," they said, in union, voices cracking and tears flowing.

Outside, the sun began to set, orange, red, and pink painting the sky in vivid colours, the sky now a pretty picture, like a fruit of Da Vinci's drawing.

The then-voracious waves calmed down, and the splashing sounds subsided to something like a whisper, a calming hum of the waves.

The sky darkened, the evocative shades abated into inky black, and one by one, the stars appeared, popping out like so many bright fireflies, floating in the sable skies, lighting up the sky.

A full moon is now shaped, its brightness replaced that of the sun's. Outshining the little stars, who are said to be moon wannabes, its benign radiance glistened on the waves, illuminating the blue liquid.

Inside the Golden Castle's musty basement, out climbed Jones

White, well pleased with his harsh whipping of the weak prisoners, stupid and be-damned as they are.

Grinning his usual, smug grin, Jones walked confidently over to the King's dining room, whip now stored safely in one of his prized treasure chests, gifts from the King, who laboured under the delusion that his one servant was exceptionally loyal, obedient and went about his work with no complains, which pleased the King's old way of thinking.

Little did King Richard know, his seemingly fine servant has a grisly habit of torturing the prisoners and having a good time of it. The only thing King Richard ever ordered Jones to do was to check on the inmates, feed them on a plain plate of edibles, and make sure they didn't escape.

King Richard, busy in strategising fights, ordering his many servants, and talking to his wise councelors, didn't give a second thought of what Jones and his whip might be doing in his Castle's basement.

King Richard was a great leader, always focused on keeping the prosperity of his kingdom, making sure the fields were always full of wheat and other plain needs, and also made sure that each inhabitant of his kingdom had the simple home comforts and had stable businesses.

His subjects wore the most submissive expressions whenever an event was held in honour of the highly respected King and Queen. They celebrated with the King whenever he commemorated exultations, and shared his sorrows as well as his glory.

Once, the King's mother, who died a widow, for the King's father had died when he was at the young age of three, had died, a great wave of despondency washed through the kingdom, the many kingdom's inhabitants coming in hoards to his Castle, all sincerely mourning over the old lady's death.

Once, also, the Princess Elizabeth reached the age of twelve, and the most extravagant decorations ornamented the Castle's golden walls, the most mouthwatering cake baked, and the most phenomenal, stunning dress the Princess wore, when she was brought up to the podium to the sound of applause.

Now, let me, as author, weave you back to the present.

Jones gave toothy grins to the numerous paintings of the King's predecessors hanging on the wall, well pleased with himself and his previous behaviour. Once let in to the dinner room, however, he put on a fraud of a face, wearing the most pleasant, submissive look a man could wear.

"Sir," he said, in a tone that was soft, traces of respect and admiration in it, a droll imitation of capitulation. He bowed his head, his hands behind his back to hide the clear signs of holding a whip minutes before.

"Jones," replied the King, in his mighty, though humble, tone, "You may rise."

Jones stopped his adamant bowing, and said, "Yes, sir, I have finished doing your orders, sir." And the King nodded impressively, biting a piece of potatoes of his golden fork, the exact colour of his Castle's walls.

"You may leave, and ask your day's wages with the administrative accountant, and you have my permission to roam about as you like, for your duties today has been done, and I thank you mightily for it, from King to Servant, with his sincere appreciation." the King said, but his daughter, pretty Princess Beth stared grumpily at her father, evidently disagreeing to her father's behaviour.

When Jones left, satisfied with his ability to hide what he was actually doing and contented with the fact that he had his earnings to buy his daily bread, and all without the particular knowledge of the King.

And so, the day ended in the Golden Castle, which looked seemingly fine, though the citizens didn't know what ruthless occurrences happened within those lustrous walls, what harsh things the King's faithful servant, Jones White, did without the King's knowing.

Sad, but the ending fate of the chained captives of the King's, for that is another story, for another time.

But for now, let's say the world-famous closing two words.

The End.

(hello, lovely readers. i'm sorry that this story isn't according to the prompt issued by reedsy, but i had this wild idea and i just need to put it down in words and get it out of my mind. anyways, i hope you enjoy it.)