THE LIARS ADDRESS
The horrid winter wind pushed and pressed against the hallowed hall on the night of the Grand Cezar’s annual Liars Address in the Kingdom of Truthavia. The thousand Senators leapt to their feet when their fearless and god-filled chief marched in past them. This son of privilege with the prestigious university pedigree walked through the Dome of Justice in full military regalia. His cape flapped behind him and a shimmering constellation of medals from wars that the Cezar dreamed up glinted in the harsh light above them. Some of the Senators ached and clawed at the chance to speak and hurl their words at their fear-filled and godless Cezar, words that would cause the devil to curdle and heave. But their tongues had long ago been severed and locked away in the Treason Chest which was outstandingly displayed in the Justice Dome’s foyer. Instead they applauded wildly and threw flower petals beneath his feet.
“The plenty of summer is upon us.” The Grand Cezar bellowed to his encircled comrades and civic leaders. “And the subjects who praise our names out there in the gentle sun are basking in glorious bounty.” The wind outside gave up a hungry howl so deafening that it drowned out the screams of the men-with-minds-made-wolf who shivered in rags as they crept around the tarnished Hall. There was no more wood to burn against the cold, but they still clutched axes in their tired arms and continued their march inward.
“But the vultures-“ The Cezar “still hate us for their own failures in the face of our God-given success. They see the full faces and radiant smiles upon the citizens of Truthonia and they can only feel envy and hate. But as we have done time and time again we rain the ethereal fires of the skies down upon them when they dare molest our citizens or defile the earth within our borders.”
Boys who’d survived long enough to wear the badge of Men stood upright on the Hall’s barren lawns. They could set their rag-wrapped paws on the frozen Earth. Neither rain now snow would fall in Truthakia any longer, and the dry earth froze hard and gave them a clear path to toward prey.
Their fathers eyes had once shimmered the faint glow of hope upon holding a child who dared to live and breathe in this infertile domain. Those fathers were long gone. They’d reached the grounds just past the borders of their wasteland, to scrape a little chaff from the plentiful fields beyond. They’d stumbled and staggered back with just enough in their hands to fill the young mouths that wailed for them but were cut down far too far away.
They sent only their ghosts in their stead.
“Our children look upon us-“ The Cezar “and see the light of Gods illuminating their paths. And with wisdom and compassion, they will carry our prosperity over to our backwards and lost neighbor. He who lives in dirt and knows no reason for why he walks beneath Her benevolent sun and drinks from Her bountiful streams.”
Mothers still found a way to feed these fatherless boys from the roots and the bits that she pulled from the unyielding earth. In time these wailing things learned to stand on two legs, and when their mouths could form words, they could finally give voice to the scratching and clawing in their bellies the tears that poured from their reddened eyes. And when the pain-filled wail of “why” echoed through their empty homes, the mothers sucked in their lips between toothless mouths, and pointed to the dome that stood high and lonesome above them all.
“The wells of innovation that fuel our industries-” The Cezar “will never run dry. The spark of genius that glows in the minds of our people will always reign supreme.”
So the sons of the fathers made their own trek. Not outward in hope like the fathers had once made, but inward in wrath, like the beasts that this winter had turned them.
“And those who falter and stumble and fall around us-”
They had saved the only strength that their gaunt frames could muster to chop down the doors that kept them from their masters.
“Can always turn to the light of the Civilization of Truthistan-”
And the Senators offered their necks willingly to the men’s hand-held guillotines.
“For the United People of Truth will always welcome the heathen pilgrims with open arms, for as long as our Empire shall last.”
And the medals burst from the coat of the Grand Cezar and clattered to the ground as the uniform was ripped from his god like body. He was ripped naked and torn about by the skeletal phalanx. An army of hunger and hate taking their long owed birthright from the well-nourished flesh.
“And our Empire will shine for a thousand y-“
