Once upon a time there was a great and powerful king. When he first assumed control of the kingdom, after his father the previous king passed away, life for the people wasn’t so good. They went hungry most of the time, food and clean water were scarce, and nice houses only existed in dreams. The king’s subjects were poor and angry, but they were too weak to revolt. They existed as best as possible under the conditions. It wasn’t that the previous king had been intentionally mean, it seemed he was just too remote in his own riches to understand what was going on. And when he passed away, no one had any confidence that life was going to improve. Why would they think so?  Life had been too hard for too long.

But the new king, who was quite young when he assumed power, had new eyes and a different perspective than his father.  He decided to tour the kingdom with an entourage of smart people.  He had scholars and alchemists and clergymen.  For months, his entire team went from village to village, talking to the people, listening to their concerns, and seeing how they actually lived.  The people were honest and told the truth.  They were encouraged that the king – the actual king! – was taking an interest in how they lived and why they suffered.  

It took a lot of effort before the survey of the kingdom was finally complete, but the king and his team were able to visit every single town and village and hamlet in the land. When they returned to the castle, they went straight to the large meeting room and sat down at the massive wooden table and discussed their observations. The conversation went on from morning to night for several days with everyone sharing what they had seen and how they felt the kingdom could be improved. The king, who was remarkably rich, was, surprisingly, not at all selfish, and he was completely willing to put the best plans into place, no matter the cost, to improve the lives of his subjects.  

The people, who had no idea that all this discussion was taking place, were getting more bitter and disillusioned every day. Since they couldn’t see any improvements after they had been so honest with the king, they assumed that his visit had only been for show. They sincerely believed that life, in all its misery, was just going to continue as it always had. They didn’t have much hope.

Then, after months of status quo, the people started to notice new developments. Teams of workers, directed by the king, were showing up in the towns and villages and hamlets to plant vegetable gardens and improve the roads. Notices were tacked on every door announcing that new wooden floors were going to be installed in their homes and new wood-burning stoves were going to be delivered and leaky roofs were going to be repaired and wells for clean water were going to be built.  The people were ecstatic. For the first time ever, they were actually being taken care of by the king of the land.

Every day saw improvements. But the king went even further. He encouraged the people to improve themselves. A special team of artists and educators travelled the land to teach and instruct.  Lessons were available for anyone who wanted to learn how to paint or quilt or sew or draw. The people felt alive. They were more content than they had ever been.  

It did not take long before the local economies were thriving. People started to barter—a crop of vegetables exchanged for a newly quilted blanket or a sketch traded for clothing alterations. And now that the momentum was in full swing, the king was able to sit back, satisfied that he had done a good job for the residents of his kingdom.

But soon there was a most surprising and discouraging turn of events. The king’s teams, who visited the towns and villages and hamlets on a regular basis to monitor progress and keep in contact with the people, started to hear disturbing news. It seemed that, despite being grateful for the many improvements, some people were actually greedy for more, and they were doing whatever they could in order to get it. People were reporting that their vegetable gardens were being looted and their houses burgled.

The king called an emergency meeting with his most trusted team of advisors. He was confused.  How could things have taken such a terrible turn? All his best intentions had only been appreciated for a short time. Granted, it wasn’t everybody who was doing these bad things, but similar reports were coming in from every town and village and hamlet. It was like a spreading disease. Were human beings really so selfish and inconsiderate?  

The more the king spoke, the angrier he got. He was hurt and embarrassed and very frustrated. He told his team that he wanted to take a little while to think on his own. They would meet again in seven days.

For the next week, no one saw the king. He locked himself in a chamber at the furthest edge of his castle, not even leaving for meals. Each day, a chambermaid left food outside his door and came back later to retrieve the dirty dishes. Some days, the food wasn’t even eaten. Some nights, the king didn’t sleep. All he did was think. And no matter how hard he tried, he just kept getting angrier with how the people had accepted his good intentions and then used them in such horrible and unkind ways.  

Exactly seven days later, the king emerged from his chamber and walked directly through his castle to the meeting room where his team was already assembled. He presented the conclusions that had come to him after a week of serious contemplation.  

People, he said, are selfish, thoughtless, inconsiderate and stupid. Not all of them, but some. Too many. He had obviously been much too idealistic. Instead of appreciating his efforts to improve their lives, they had taken advantage.

Some members of the king’s team tried to convince him that it really was just a very small number of people in each town and village and hamlet who were behaving badly, and often the loudest, giving the illusion of a larger mob of disagreeable folks. But the king didn’t care. It didn’t matter, he said. He had to make it known that this behaviour, even if it was only committed by a small minority of offenders, was not going to be tolerated.

He then issued his royal proclamation. Everything he had done was to be undone. The gardens? Pull them up. Pull up the vegetables and burn them in the town square. The roads? Cover them in thick mud. The wood-burning stoves? Destroy them. The fixed roofs of the houses? Make them leak again. The wells for clean water? Poison them. Make the towns and villages and hamlets ugly again. Make the inconsiderate people’s lives miserable again. They had the opportunity for a better, pleasant existence and they had squandered it.

The king’s team tried to reason with him. Surely this was an over-reaction. Is it really necessary for everyone to suffer on account of a degenerate few? What about all the people who really were appreciative of the king’s goodness and had used it positively?

The king would not be swayed. Not only did he want to undo everything he had done, he was going to go even further. He instructed his advisors to assemble teams of destruction. Every house in every town and village and hamlet was going to be entered, forcefully if necessary, and five items were going to be taken from each. All items were to be piled in the centre of town and set on fire as a message to the people that the king was all-powerful and this was his response to their bad behaviour.  

And, taking it further still, the king announced that he was even going to destroy more than just possessions. He was going to destroy intangibles. Effective immediately, no one was allowed to laugh. Laughing was now a crime. And the colour red? Eliminate it. Get rid of anything red, until it no longer exists. And the month of February? Cancel it, it no longer exists either.  

The king’s team tried again to reason with him  Surely sir, they said, this is going too far. How can we eliminate a colour or cancel a month? With all due respect, your Highness, this is getting irrational.

This my decree, the king said. If you don’t carry out my decree, you will die. The king’s team nodded and bowed their heads. The meeting adjourned.

It took many months, but the king’s demands were implemented. There was much destruction in each town and village and hamlet. The people cried and pleaded for it to stop, but to no avail. They did not understand how the colour red could suddenly no longer exist, or how the month of February could be cancelled. They were told that’s just how it is now and there was no sense asking questions because nothing was going to change. They had squandered their chance for a better life.  

Once the king was sure that his decree had been carried out in every corner of his kingdom, he retired to his chamber and never left. He became a sad, disillusioned man until his death. All he had ever wanted was to be a great and enlightened and progressive king. All he had ever wanted was to improve life in his kingdom. Instead, everything seemed to have gone wrong. His father, the previous king, had been right all along to never leave his castle. He hadn’t been unaware of real life at all. He had been completely aware. He knew that nothing could be done to change the selfishness and stupidity of the people.

It took some time for the news of the king’s death to spread throughout the kingdom. Some people, the bad ones, didn’t care much. Others, though, as soon as they learned of it, decided with slight anxiety to mend their clothes and draw new pictures and plant small new gardens with red flowers and laugh softly to themselves. Some people, the good ones, were hesitantly excited to try again.

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Chris Klassen lives and writes in Toronto, Canada.  After graduating from the University of Toronto and living for a year in France and England, he returned home and worked the majority of his career in print media.  His stories have been published in numerous journals including Across the Margin, Fleas on the Dog, Literally Stories, Vagabond City, Dark Winter, Ghost City Review, The Raven Review, The Coachella Review, Sortes, Amethyst Magazine, Toasted Cheese, and Mobius, among others.  His first novel, entitled An Individual, is available through Dark Winter Press.