The Guard

Tall and taller, that's how I should stand. Act impenetrable, diminish any insecurity. My job is to remain on guard, be constantly prepared to protect the kingdom with my life. Showing weakness guarantees inevitable, unknown consequences. I'm a castle guard where my life means nothing more than a flawed brick in the wall of protection.

Tensions ease when the dawn warms to the sun. Hope rises when day breaks the horizon because, today, we're safe from attack. That's the common rumor (I believe misconception) among all the guards lately. It's the king's birthday. The special occasion sparks hope for a nugget of mercy or a sip of compassion from Him where he has never been so generous. Some of the more optimistic guards whisper lightly of the privilege of school. We're young, starving to feed our curiosity with knowledge and bits of reality outside our enclosed world. They give us poor excuses of privilege; all for our own good. When we die fighting, we should consider ourselves so lucky to be given such an honor. Some bodies are too weak to outlast the battles before the absolute confrontation. When we complain of hunger and thirst, we're reminded we shouldn't dare ask to make such waste of the king's food and water. Luxuries. The youthful guards steal warmth clenched in each others arms when no one else is looking. They shake from cold, weakness, and fear in brewing passion - we all do.

The morning trumpets signal the beginning of a big day. I straighten at my post, daring to gawk at the elaborate procession which is nothing short of a rude display of Master's power. Our purpose here is to protect Him. Not against outside perpetrators, but from the rebellion of the pawns He's imprisoned underneath constant watch. Each guard is pitted against the morals of the other, unarmed. Should conflict ensue, we fight with empty hands and raw strength. We're placed under the illusion of significance under Master, being of importance or use. Should any of us be turned out to a freer peasant society, our numbers would correlate against His powerful mirage. His cowardice holds the value of human life at arms length. A simply intricate process of protecting his selfish kingdom.

The guard closest to me shifts warily and my muscles tighten. Inwardly, I beg, "Not today, please don't risk it." Blatantly lead by Master, the royal family flounces down the long path leading from the stiff mouth of the castle to the flawlessly crafted iron-gated entrance. I subtly risk another glance toward the restless guard and I prepare to put my life on the line. Anticipation intensifies with the cadence of the arrogant march. Rhythmic shuffling of polished leather boots expands with the pounding in my ears. The glint of a syringe wipes my memory of patience and I heave my body toward the rebel, absorbing the needle intended for Master. Collapsing, now surrounded by chaos and the screams of frightened women, I wait for the promised honor and pride, wait for the envied exultation of the martyr, expect closure to the lie of my life's purpose. Instead, my body lingers only for the onset of the fatal injection's effect. Ears buzzing, body limp, eyes growing ashen, Master approaches. Finally. Instead of gratitude, He snorts,"They were counting on you. You betrayed your conscience. For what? To add to my power? Consider yourself lucky you won't have to live with your treason." The sneering feels like verbal daggers, more painful and infectious than the poison coursing my inner lifelines. Another battle, one of contrition sways guilt against a lifelong burden. Time trickles out and faces smudge into the background commotion until I can only watch my innermost thoughts sorting frantically. Rage, regret, disbelief, a surging tide of unanswerable questions. 'Is this my reward for faithful obedience? Where did I go wrong to deserve death over Him? Would it have been right to allow murder?' Unjust peace waves its transparent hand over my body and through my hair. Restless thoughts slow like water freezing to ice. An unsettled soul escapes to meet an eternal fate. Master and His adoring crowd continue their parade toward exquisitely-dressed tables displaying a gluttonous feast prepared by starving guards with built-in smiles.