Thursday, April 19, 2012

The Tyrant

As I enter the room, I feel the chill of dread. One can't help but feel it. That terrible presence emanating from behind the closed door. I sit and wait for my name to be called. Then the judgement.

I wish with every fiber in my being to be somewhere else, but my powers of mental teleportation, not being fully developed, fail me. My eyes close in concentration as I try to visualize the tall dark menacing creature giving me a "get out of jail free" card instead of having to be held accountable. 

This yearly appointment with the Tyrant hones my awareness that I will be weighed and found wanting. Never good enough - even when you are sure to best his expectations - S.C. Ale hunts me down with laser-pointed accuracy.

When my name is called at last, I stand and force myself to put one foot in front of the other. The attendant leads me to the very place I've dreaded.

I close my eyes and step up. He spits out my condemnation to the attendant and I receive a reprieve until next year.

Determined to best him, I plot my revenge.

Until we meet again, Tyrant.  

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