I know you are unsatisfied with your life, little king. Allow me to gift you another, more… fulfilling one.
Dark. Dark and hot, panic sets in and instinct takes over; he pulls his shirt over his face as he begins to kick at the center of his coffin, dirt begins to fall in through small cracks, quickly he shoves it aside and continues to widen the cracks into a large hole. With great care he positions his head at the ever growing crack and begins to rise, digging dirt away from his head as he climbs out of his shallow grave. He punches through the sod and manages to pull himself out of the earth, coughing and confused he lays on his back looking at the blue sky for a moment before sitting up and looking around.
What had once been a great burial site for him and his family lay in ruin with weeds growing over the mostly destroyed tomb stones. His stone lay shattered, his name worn away, all he could read from centuries of rains and wind, all that remains on the lichen covered stone is one word, carved deep with black stone set in “tyrant.” The word cuts deep, to think that is all his people thought of his leaves a bitter taste in his mouth and a scowl on his rugged features.
Let me know if you’d like more of this, it has been sitting on my flashdrive for a while now so if you want more I can write more