PEACE AND SAFETY

PEACE AND SAFETY

He broke away from the group, running madly across the jungle. Some chased after him, hurling spears in the darkness in a bid to slow him down. The whoosh of sharpened sticks in addition to the bloodthirsty cries of his comrades only pushed him more and more, until he was out of sight.

“How could he?!” one demanded furiously, “isn’t he the one who rallied us together in the first place?”

“Oh my God,” another said, “he’s actually going back!”

“Leave him!” another addressed the crowd, “he’s a traitor now. He’s made his choice, and we must stick with ours. Let’s go!” With that, they followed him closely, being guided only by the warm, silver glow of the moon.

The man rushed frantically until he got to the damaged fence. He had never stopped to marvel at the beauty of the Victorian-style home, brought to life by flickering orange lights that illuminated the inside, not to mention the delicate carvings on the lawn that seemed more realistic from where he was standing.

“No time, no time,” he murmured, making his way past the horde of corpses lying theatrically before him, past the broken spears and the spent firesticks that littered the expansive lawn, and finally to the front porch, where two of the dogs that once fiercely guarded their masters’ property, now lay by their side, whimpering in pain and fear at the very sight of him.

He opened the door to reveal a warmly lit lobby that echoed the creak of the wooden floor underneath his feet that complimented the elegant stairway whose curves led past the landing and onto the magnificent chandelier, in all its crystalline glory.

“What do you want now?” a hoarse voice neighed. Before him was the elderly owner, dressed in green military attire, wielding a shinier firestick that he had never seen before.

“Sir,” he began, hands raised, “I’m only here to apologise.”

“After all the damage you’ve done, now you’ve come back to mock…to mock…” he barely finished his sentence before a bout of coughing hit him. The man went over to help, but the old man still had a considerable handle on the firestick, still pointed at him.

“I’m not mocking, sir. I truly am sorry. Besides, the damage is nothing that can’t be fixed. Don’t you remember me, the handyman?” he said, trying to lighten the mood, seemingly forgetting about the last two hours.

“I don’t need your mockery,” the old man started, “you made your point. Get out, or kill me, either way doesn’t matter anymore.”

“Sir, please,” the boy groveled, shrinking to his knees, forgetting about the past two hours, “I’m scared out there. The thicket is too expansive, the forest too dark. And there are creatures out there, like you told us. But there are none here. There’s only comfort, morsels of good food and a warm bed by the stables. I cannot fare where the others head, but I can get by here.”

At this, the old man smiled wryly, putting the firestick away, and looking down upon the burly man, his frail hands shaking on his muscular shoulders, responded:

“My son, did I not tell you that I am only trying to protect you from the horrors of the world out there? Now that you have seen for yourself, don’t you realize how stupid you were to participate in that rebellion?”

“Yes, I do,” he meekly responded.

“You are stupid, aren’t you boy?” the old man croaked, his glass eyes staring directly into his.

“I was, sir.”

“Indeed,” the elder said, smacking him across his face; yet he only turned slightly while the old man groaned in pain.

“Now see how you’ve hurt me,” he remarked, his hand throbbing red. The boy tended to his masters hand, kissing it in servitude.

“I’m sorry, sir,” he moaned.

“Now boy, look at all this damage. Look at how much you’ve cost me. All your friends are gone, and there’s no one to work; what will we do about that?”

“I’ll do it!” he responded happily, “For their share, I’ll do everything.”

“You’d better.”

“Yes sir. Anything for a guaranteed plate.”

“Good. Now head back to what’s left of your quarters. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Yes, sir,” he said, towering over the old man, his heart filled with gratitude as he walked away, but not before he was summoned back.

“Boy, have you forgotten something?”

He timidly lumbered back, knelt down and faced upwards as the elderly man fetched his collar, only this time he handed it over, saying:

“You can do it yourself.”

Without hesitating, he shackled himself, smiling from ear to ear as it clicked into position because it wouldn’t choke him like it normally did.

“Ah, now tell me,” the old man continued, “what do you look like?”

“Myself,” he responded, the sycophant.

“Good, only better. You see, freedom is not for everyone. It requires a strong stomach and bravery, and you, my friend, have none of this. But don’t you worry, I’ll teach you something else. Go on, ask me what.”

“What will you teach me?”

“How to be comfortable where you are. You see, here there is peace and safety, unlike out there with its horrors. Don’t worry, you have come to your senses, so there’s hope for you. Now you can go.”

“Yes, sir,” he obliged, kissing his master’s outstretched arm and walking away into the darkness. He peered at the gaping fence one last time, shook his head in dismay and headed back to the stables, where his hay bed waited eagerly for him.