The pipes bellowed like a large monster waking from its slumber as the
people stood up with heavy books in their hands, their faces in expressionless
unison. The air was thick with smog and the walls of the church seemed like
they could crumble at the slightest touch. The congregation started to sing as
the words that came out of their mouths sounded more like chanting than
singing. The choral voices and the bellowing of the organ metamorphosed into an
angrier, larger monster. Voices of different pitches and loudness fighting one
another to stand out.
Suddenly, the earth began to shake with the intensity increasing with
every note of the organ. The voices were drowned by the sound of concrete
crashing down. The sirens began to sound like a wailing child. The congregation
turned into a stampede of animals rushing to the only exit as they trampled
over the holy books and each other. The man in the robes at the alter was
shouting, trying to get everyone to calm down for God was with them. "Do
not be afraid my brothers and sister, we are in the house of the Lord. He will
protect us." But this too was drowned by the blasts and the screaming of
women and children. As the priest stretched out his arms to show that there was
no safer place than inside the church itself, the roof came crashing down on
him. His arms still outstretched but not moving. "Mama! Papa!"
children cried in despair. The raging inferno engulfed everything in and around
it. People ran in every direction, hurt and in pain - sometimes in flames. Bomb
after bomb rained down from the sky as the earth shook in horror. The streets
were covered in dust and dead bodies.
High in the fortified tower, a lone room was locked and heavily guarded
by men with rifles in uniform. Men willing to protect and die for the man
inside the room. The man of the year. The room had a large king sized bed with
birch frames beside which stood a drawer with a table lamp on it. On the far
right corner of the room a man was sitting on a chair covered in velvet
cushions and gold. His worn-out brown uniform decorated with numerous medals
and patches. His eyes were dark, his face worn and expressionless as he put the
tips of his fingers together resting his elbows on the arms of the chair. He
took a deep breath and exhaled loudly and slowly closed his eyes, listening to
the thudding of the bombs and the screams of innocent lives. No natural light
entered the room save a tiny opening the size of a brick to his left from which
he could see the world perish - if he wanted to. Bright flashes of crimson filled
his closed eye lids as sirens wailed and structures crumbled.
"What are you thinking?" asked a voice. The voice of a man, so
soothing, so familiar - like how he had imagined it his whole life. The man
opened his eyes slowly and looked up. A strange figure stood before him, it
seemed to glow and shimmer despite the lack of light. The being was dressed in
some kind of white robe, the whitest he had seen. The man squinted his eyes to
get a clearer look at the face but could not quite see it. The figure crossed
its hands together and leaned in as if to urge the man to give him an answer.
The man's furrows brows widened as intrigue gave way to recognition and relief.
"You?! I was expecting the other guy..." he said in a tone of
surprise with a tinge of disappointment.
"I just wanted to talk to you, you know before"
"Before I'm shot to death..." said the man completing the
sentence. "Why though? How does it matter? Is my fate not already sealed?
What could you possibly want to talk about?" questioned the man. The
figure stood silent, hands still clasped together. "I know that you want
to say and ask a few things, so go on..." urged the figure. The sirens and
screaming seemed to have stopped. Silence filled the room. The world seemed to
stand still.
"What I have done are all justified in my eyes. They're what I
wanted, what I desired for this world. Absolute destruction." said the man
after a lot of thought, playing the conversation in his head. "That is
correct, you're considered history's greatest tyrant. What you've done will
forever be remembered, studied, analysed. People will write stories, books even
about you and your actions. Your legacy." said the figure.
"My question is, if all of it is wrong then why did you stand by
and watch? Why didn't you stop it? You could've stopped it right from the
beginning. Nipped it in the bud. But you didn't! You stood and watched. So tell
me why? Why me?!" said the man filled with rage as he sunk his nails deep
into the arms of the chair. The figure slowly walked over to the bed and sat
down, all the while silent and staring at the man, almost as if it could see
into his soul. It brought its hands together and put the tips to its lips. The
room was cloaked in silence.
Finally it spoke "Kill a few to save the many."
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