In the midst of a ground sucking, claustrophobic fog, atop the only plateau on the fetid and treeless, well worn battle ground, sits an ever brooding monolith, an unholy Citadel of lies and deceit. Shrouded in the mist of self conceit, by its very nature, it’s a bitter law unto itself. It brooks no hint of obstruction. It wantonly casts forth from its towering ramparts, regular edicts that must be accepted without question. The laws of its retched lands, long debated behind the security of much reviled walls, have of course been framed from within the cesspit, largely to provide succour to the every day needs its own bile filled intestines. Very little is actually known of the controlling hand that guides the workings of the Citadel, not that it’s been a problem gaining admittance to the inner city. So all pervasive and encompassing is the power of the fortress and the countryside that surrounds it that the select few who gain entry are not, in any way, seen as being a threat to the harmony of the ongoing production of the foul smelling stench, that accompanies the secretions spewed on a daily basis. Never does a single day pass when the multitude of unwitting, loyal minions of the of the Dark Lords of the Citadel, don’t make their way from the blood drenched ramparts, to secrete themselves amid the beaten down populace. Their mission, to ferret out information for further use in the constant drive of the powers that be, for the self preservation of the all consuming edifice. Any and all knowledge garnered, swiftly makes its way back to the centre of the city where it finds an ominous looking vault, tucked away, deep within the darkened bowels of the Dungeon of Deception. There within the heavily secured crypt, free from the prying eyes of the world at large, huge, dust encrusted volumes of facts and figures are dragged from under lock and key, and spread upon the well worn trestles. It’s then, that arse licking squads of gormless servants eagerly set themselves about the tasks at hand, to somehow tie in the latest incoming information with the notations of past deeds, already compiled in the vast compendium. But it wasn’t always so. There was a time, in an age long past, when the Citadel was a fount of not only great knowledge, but well reasoned, thought out opinion, educed for the betterment of mankind at large. Before the great darkness descended upon the barren lands of the suffering and the innocent, the Black Beast was an animal of another stripe. The poor and the needy, as well as the rich and famous, were all as one, in the eyes of what was then, the great Benefactor. No-one was turned away. All were welcome to partake of the much sought after offerings, that were generously handed down from on high, on a daily basis. And so it was, that as the time passed, the lean grew healthy, and a general feeling of well being quickly spread across the once desolate lands. And the people rejoiced, for they felt no fear. But that was then, and this is now! Both power and self aggrandisement, have the nasty habit of jack booting their way through the echoing halls of father time. As their journey progressed, the more omnipotent they become. Where once the ear was attuned the plaintive cries of the oppressed, it now no longer hears or cares. It’s now a law unto itself. The Citadel has no master, and as such, it has no self restraint. Content but alone, it now wallows in its own excrement, oblivious to anyone or anything that won’t go down on bended knee, and pay homage to its filth.
A masterpiece of satire! Oh dear, I had no idea that all this had descended upon us since the Master died in 1989. The brilliant, testy, impatient old gentleman (well, he always looked a bit old) will be turning in his grave. He will no doubt turn up one dark night in front of his current CEO and wave your essay at him..............................after all, Christmas is not far away?
Thanks mate. I wasn't too sure about the piece while writing it, but it just seemed to take on a life of it's own. You start out in one direction, but end up at some unexpected destination.
