No Eyes to Weep With (Revised 2-13-2008)

#31

Part of the Cadaverous Planets

No Eyes to Weep With
[General Iromma of the Great War—on Planet Moiromma]
(A short paranormal story into Augsburg)Part Two of Two)


He killed with pride, which he offered his prey little of, in his graceful manner, even with a passion of hate which he held for them, he did not shame his victims too much, just enough to gain a violent reputation; his eyes burning into their deathly white faces he oppressed them, slowly, like boiling a frog alive, unnoticeable. He struck to kill, born of coldness. From such a general, one would think he would have to pay a price, but for three-hundred years, he did not on planet Moiromma, not until, after the war was won; he never had I say—but then, on the other hand, the war ended and fear does funny things to those we make into our heroes.
Anyhow, throughout the history of Moiromma, cruelty was not uncommon, just graceful cruelty was (by graceful I mean, he loved to kill, and though very little of his prey), his kind observed this with a fretful eye, but needed him to win the war; it was by his rare breed they won. He was a soldier the day he was born, and he did his duty, and it was to kill or be killed. When he killed it was never fratricidal, he was the general of a long drawn out war, which lasted three-hundred years, and he was almost immune to bloodshed. General Iromma, born and breed on Moiromma.
Many sneered at the General with sarcasm at the end of their lips, at the end of the war. He paid little attention to it, it was his job, duty to fight the Great War of Moiromma with the barbarian tribes of the Northlands and insure they would not crossover and into valley region again—as they had done and butchered many soldiers and citizens alike, for food; thus, they were starving in the Northlands, starving and eating ice rats, and bats, and worms, things of low nutrition you might say—not in the delicious category; yet, into the kingdom of King Moir the XI region they had penetrated, he drove them back, and captured what was left of them. It was said he captured the enemy and took them on the long march from the frozen lands of the north, to the valley to be punished, and gave them nothing to eat but snow on the way (some ate grass, brown grass, tundra grass you might say, when they could, when he was not watching, it may seem funny, but one can survive on such a diet); it was a death march, and they carried the soldiers packs and gear for them, the few that made it to the valley—that is. The General took out their eyes like plucking a yoke out of white surroundings; he took their eyes so they could not even weep among themselves, he didn’t like the noise. Thus, the uprising of the Northlands of Moiromma was stopped, once and for all. (It was Moiromma’s Great War, amongst the Cadaverous Planets.)

And so the General tolerated his trials without whimpering or showing his pain and scares in the many battles he had fought, and won for the king.
He told his Army, in the process of discharging them, “We do not bend, nor never did we, no more than today than when our great ancestors did when they swept the land, back when King Moir the 1st, ruled the land. Now you can say the three-hundred year war is past, and all but a dream, a great experience, indeed.”
So he addressed his public when he came back from war, and all celebrated his heroism. But they all feared him as well, and this brought a strange public demand on the king to insure their safety with such an animal for a public servant in peace time.
It was that very summer on the planet when things changed for him, for the General; summer on Moiromma, lasts only six-weeks out of a year, thus, much must be done in this short time. He was deadly pale and was healing, being nourished from the lack of protean of many years of fighting, his eyes a hollow glare, sunk deep into its sockets, the skin touching his skull. Yet he remained master of himself. It was right around this time the king made his announcement, for he had lost ground with the king because of the demanding public; he, the general, could not bend, or gain public sentiment for himself, they feared him too much, he never smiled you see, his eyes glared death to whom ever looked in them. He was all of seven feet tall, and the best soldier since his great grandfather, who was King Moir 1st general, and assistant.
Such a beast the general was, as he roamed the streets of the valley kingdom, where the caves were, and the King lived. In regards to the demands of the public, in consequence, the king spoke, and in so doing his words pronounced the banishment of the General, from the land, in fear of public reprisal. The general, like his great grandfather, asked for a review of history of Moiromma for additional information, and thus to think about what he, the king was doing. The king did not take a liking for this, and the general took note, and with a swing of his sword, decapitated the king right there and then, right where he sat, on this throne, decapitated him with a stiffly and lofty condescension, and he simply said, before he was overpowered and decapitated by the chamber guards himself, “I have pity to give the king no pain, that is why I took off his head, and not out his heart.”
Had the king been wise, he would have remembered his great, great grandfather, and what Iromma’s great grandfather had done, for that is what was written in the annuals of history, on the kingdom.

Benediction: legend has it, this old General, was resurrected on earth (as Moirommalit’s can do), in those far off days. Ending up in some part of Germany (I think Augsburg) as a butcher, or butchers helper, and died of old age on his 539th birthday, in 1972. Perhaps middle-aged for Moirommalit’s; he died with old fashion grace you could say, and courtesy and inconceivable haughtiness.

Written 4-20-2007 (reedited 2-13-2008)