Cerritulus




An overcast of clouds loomed over the city of ‘Obsequium ‘. The rumbles of the roaring thunder, and the howling winds, made the city look like an obsidian rock under the moons gaze. The incessant rain forced everyone in the shelter of their homes. No sane soul was found lurking in the alleyways, not even those fatal canines, which were positioned by the condescending royals to remind the population of their susceptible existence. The patter of the rain and the clatter of the object in the suitcase produced a sound that would be a cacophony to anybody else, but was a majestic melody according to Asher Clifton. He was known as ‘Cerritulus’ among the people because of his obsessive and eccentric personality. He was different than everybody, even the royals, much smarter and analytical and a lot more rebellious. The trunk he carried was a happy yellow color, a color rarely found in Obsequium. He had built this trunk and the contents within it after much pain and diligence using rhodium and gold with the essence of darkness. Every summer, an artificial cloak would seal the sunshine and engulf the kingdom in the black the people were very well accustomed to. The insatiable hunger of public submission by the royals caused them to be callous and cutthroat. The terror established, raised no defiance and insurrection, whatsoever. Asher resented this oppression. He had been waiting for the right moment to start a revolt, which arrived when he laid his hands on his miraculous trunk. He knew he could not do anything alone, so he lit a matchstick of insurgence and let time turn it into a roaring flame, the one that now burned in many people’s hearts.  Finally, the horrors of a dark era would be replaced by the glistening rays of sunshine. Asher had gathered all his followers and headed towards ‘Tenebris Draconis’, the royal tower. Scones in hand and an indomitable look in the eyes they bulldozed into the grand hall under the protection of the utopian trunk. “Oi! Get out you filthy roaches” roared a soldier’s voice.  “Keep your mouths shut” shouted Arrow, Asher’s best friend, immediately silencing the crowd.  “Please summon the king, kind man” said Asher calmly with a psychotic smirk on his face, his stare never leaving the trunk. “What is the cause of this chaos? You ruined my beauty sleep!” boomed the king Erysichthon’s voice. “Oh, we are so sorry! Is our little princess mad?” questioned Arrow sarcastically, chuckles erupting from amongst the throng and fumes from the king’s ears.  “We are so sorry for the trouble, Your Highness, but you won’t require that sleep anymore” politely conveyed Asher, causing the king to raise an amused eyebrow. In response, Asher opened the necromantic trunk and revealed a prepossessing blue vial, the denouement of the nightmarish narrative. Inside the vial were trapped rays of sunshine and moonlight, at the sight of which Erysichthon faded into wisps of darkness; into nothing.

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CERRITULUS- Latin word for ‘weird’

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