The Rogue Servant

A strike and suddenly life, force, energy where there wasn't any before. This nameless force shivers and shakes. It appears so fearful, and rightly it should be. I feel a draft and watch this servant obediently bow. It gracefully submits or possibly cowers to the invisible king. It's as if it knows that with enough force, the king could extinguish its very existence. But when the king leaves, he stands up tall and straight seizing the opportunity to now cast fear into others. He causes tears from those around him to pool at his feet. The shadows dance for him. The darkness runs away. The captives pour out fragrance in his honor. He smells of victory, and for a moment, he is king. His power comes from the immense heat he radiates. No one can touch him. They all shy away. He doesn't realize that those tears will eventually overtake him. The shadow dance will stop. The darkness will return. The fragrance will run out. He never suspects a thing when the invisible king returns in all his might. He overthrows the rogue servant, taking his life, his force, his energy. And just as quickly as he came, he's now gone. The last glow of his soul fading from his throne. His ghost rising until it becomes just a memory. The scent of death lingers, replacing the once pleasant fragrance. And he waits, for another strike, another chance to reign in his glass prison.