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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1878204-The-fool
by PaulO
Rated: 18+ · Other · Fantasy · #1878204
Just a sad tale of a jester.
The Fool



There once was a kind and delicate jester who was much loved by the local gentry and was much beaten and berated by his king. No one knows why the king tormented his fool so but I suspect that someone had whispered into his ear, perhaps while he slept, that the jester would be his fall, his very bane, and so secretly he feared the gentle jester and so he would beat our poor fool and the jester would pray and our fool would say.

There is a king a fearsome king
Who runs his court a fearsome ring.

Whoa to me a simple clown
Pray the gods do look down

And change the heart of this king
favor grant me in his ring.


What the king did not know though, was that even the gentlest soul will turn to anger if pushed enough, turn to hate if enough of his blood is spilled and he is forced to bear enough humiliation. So the king pushed the gentle jester and his foolish gentle heart was turned to hate and so late at night, hurt and alone, the jester would pray and the fool would say.


If a god, of fools there be.
Hear a prayer, from this fool, me.

Take my soul, if you please,
for vengeance ‘gainst, the king my Liege.


Day by day the king would make sport of the fool and night by night, fed by pain and hate and shame, the jester would pray and the fool would say.


If a god, of fools there be.
Hear a prayer, from this fool, me.

By magic black, or magic white
For my soul give me, the might.

To shame my lord, that wicked king
For to tear down, his wicked ring.


Now I tell you true my friends, that there is no god sworn to fools but as we know there are other powers than gods, and some of them have a taste for souls. Time passed and as the shadow of the jester's hate grew over the castle, these powers took notice and one decided to make sport of our poor ruined jester. So one night, after the jester prayed his fools prayer, this old wise power whispered in his ear as he slept.


The king your liege, is cruel indeed
my power bring him, to his knees.

Swear this night, your soul to me,
and I will grant you, victory.


And so our Jester gave his immortal soul and the power spoke to him a word and a plan and the once gentle jester, more the fool, set out to shame his king, his wicked king. And the jester would say and our fool would pray.

The was a fool, a simple fool,
spirit crushed by his king’s rule.

The jester’s gone, his soul forfeit,
in order that the king submit,

to the will of the jester become,
The Puppet Master the fearless one

Puppets made and plan in place the puppet master waited on his nightly call to his king’s wicked court. The call came and he rolled his stage in much to the surprise of the king the queen and the local gentry. He stood in front of them all in all his splendor and the fool said.

Tonight I will perform for my liege and most honored guests a puppet show that will both amuse, mystify and amuse you all. May I proceed my liege?

A flip of the hand from an absent minded king.

The jester danced a ridicules dance, slipped, fell and rolled under the stage, much to the delight of the gentry.

The curtain on the jester’s stage drew and the play began.

From behind the stage rose the first player, the puppet of the king himself with his back to the audience. And then a solemn voice from under the stage.

There was a king, a mighty king,
Who ran his court, a righteous ring.

He bade one leave, and another stay
And all were subject, to his way.

The puppet waved his arms this way and that, commanding players this way and that, and the voice went on.

At this the puppet turned to the captive court. In kingly robes of violet and with a jeweled crown of gold. In the center of his chest was a void of crimson. And the jester said in a now sinister voice.

There was a king, a heartless king
Who ran his court, a wicked ring.

He beat his fool, and loathed his sight.
And so his soul, be mine tonight!

The jester stood and jumped out from behind the stage puppet still in hand. The kings guard were frozen by the look in the jesters eyes. Madness at that moment was in the jester’s heart. Blind rage and so our jester rushed to the kings table and said these words. The words spoken by the power in exchange for his very soul.

Oh kind king, see this doll,
lonely and without heart?

Kindly give your own to him,
So you can play his part!

At those words the speechless king’s heart jumped and thumped hard. He gripped the sides of his throne and wondered why his chest was stretching outward. When his chest was stretched to an impossible length, and his mind had given up hope, his life was torn from him and his heart burst from his chest.

It floated in front of him, halfway to the jester. Then his soul, lost and lonely for its heart lunged for it. A floating heart surrounded by a glowing, greedy soul paused for just a moment, and then it leaped for the puppet, carried by the power’s spell. In a flash of light, the life of the king was trapped in the puppet that the master of puppets held.


And as the king collapsed, the power the jester had been granted was spent.

The gentry came awake and screamed for his head. The guards, no longer mesmerized rushed to seize the jester.

For his part he just stood there staring at his puppet. Back to his senses, the once kind jester stared at the puppet that looked like his king. The puppet that was just a puppet a moment before but was now something terrible. A piece of cloth with a beating heart. Life filled eyes that couldn’t move.

As the guards stuck him down he said one final prayer.

If a God, of gods there be.
Hear a prayer, from this fool me.

Release the contract, on my soul.
And kindly pay the toll I owe.

Pity Lord for this poor fool,
corrupted by a king, most cruel.



Now the fate of the jester is unsure as there is indeed a God over all the powers that be and He is made of light and mercy. So we can hope the best for our poor gentle jester.

As for the king, now trapped in that puppet. He was gathered up with all of the Jester’s things. It was all taken out and burned and in that fire he found release from that prison wood and cloth

He moved on his story done.

And so shall we, this story done.


© Copyright 2012 PaulO (heavy at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1878204-The-fool