How Long a Minute Lasts

This week we have a very special story for you guys from The Guest.

I had never been to a ritual before. Before my revelation as I looked into the cup, I was unaware I was at one now. My “friends” had invited me over to play a game of King’s Cup to warm up to the group, but they were gone now, at least as I knew them. Instead, I was surrounded by five formless figures, constantly shifting at the edge of my peripheral as my vision was sucked into the void of the chalice.

 I had lost, and now I realized the consequences of my joyful night. It was never intended that I should pass off the King’s cup; it was meant for me from the start. How long can a minute last? A minute was all I was told, chug the cup and get it done in a minute. Of course, at that time my friends were normal, or at least they still were veiled in the lie that led me here. I drew the King they all said, even though they were the ones who shuffled and dealt them; but I was having fun, so I didn’t even care to realize. A minute. The void still sat untouched, not a drop disturbed, as I stared blankly into it. This was when I realized why I was here. I was their King, and yet I had no say in my own crowning. 

As I looked into the chalice I could feel that there was no way out. The void had me, and I was looking back at myself through it, but it was no longer me I saw in those eyes. In my place stared a King. A King of promises, a King of desires; a King of falsehoods. How long can a minute last? I no longer knew what a minute was, and soon I would forget the question entirely. A minute in my new throne was the same as a year, and a year the same as eternity. I was asking the wrong question, but that didn’t matter anymore. All questions are equal in their meaningless here. I understood all and yet nothing could yield any meaning to me anymore. 

There were others in here with me, endless others, one kingdom, but still I couldn’t feel them. Life didn’t exist here, death held no leverage over we forsaken Kings. So here we sit, waiting for the next poor soul who wants to be King. It doesn’t matter how many come, they never seem to know what being King entails, or just how long a minute lasts.

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Thank you so much for reading! What did you think of the story our brother wrote? Let us know in the comments below.

-Clever&WTF, The Guest