Холдор Вулкан: другие произведения.

Cruel payback (The story)

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Конкурсы: Киберпанк Попаданцы. 10000р участнику!
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  • Аннотация:
    I firmly believe that this story can make readers cry and to think about a lot, of course if the reader has a soul. (Holder Volcano)

  Holder Volcano
  
  
  Cruel payback
  (The story)
  
  
  
  - Mehmet, son, you must forgive me if I unwittingly upset you ever. I love you more than anything in the world - said Sultan Sanjar Savash, hugging his son and stroking his head.
  
  Mehmet was surprised to hear the words of his father Sultan Sanjar Savash.
  
  - Father, why are you saying that? It's too early for you to say goodbye. You will live in this world for a long time, and you will rule the country until old age. God grant you good health and a long life. I love you more than life, father! Just like my mother and my brother Ahmed - said Mehmet, hugging his father.
  
  Sultan Sanjar Savas had tears in his eyes, and in order not to show their son, he hugged him even harder and kissed him on the head. His lips trembled, and his eyes involuntarily rolled tears, first in the face, and then his thick beard, like morning dew that showered with leaves of grass, which sways in the wind. That night Sultan Sanjar Savash did not sleep, walked nervously up and down the fiery red carpet. He felt like a predator in a cage, constantly looking out at freedom. He then called his eldest son Prince Valiahd (heir to throne) and Ahmed and they had a long conversation. During the conversation, Sultan Sanjar Sawash intended to tell Prince Ahmed something important, but could not. After the Prince had gone to his room to sleep, Sultan Sanjar Savash wept bitterly, shaking her shoulders and lamenting:
  
  - Oh, God Almighty, you gave me more than I asked! I have become great sultans! But I didn't know that the crown and the throne are so ruthless and would require such a sacrifice! If I had known this before, I would never have become a Sultan! On the contrary, I would hang on his neck a sack beggars and lived life to the poor! Oh, my God, how happy are those poor hungry people of yours who live in slums! I envy them white envy! They are absolutely free and content with a piece of bread. They go where they want. Walk without protection on a footpath on wide fields where winds walk and larks sing, being filled in with a trill, morning stop in the middle of a rye field, where the rye carefree fun flying a swarm of white butterflies in heaven. Then again go where eyes look. Poor, unlike me, can freely roam the summer pastures, waist-deep in tall grass, where thoughtfully fly on the wind a feather in the wind, like a jellyfish in the sea. For hours he could hear the distant knocking of a woodpecker and the sad voice of a lone hoopoe, who sings somewhere over the fields, calling it as a distant childhood. Listen to the murmur of the river, overgrown by white daisies, Angelicas, sweet clovers meadows, can even sleep in the haystacks on the field under the starry sky, admiring silently Siauliai the moon in silence, listening to the monotonous, primeval songs of the crickets and choral croaking of distant frogs, like a whisper. To consider the distant blue star and tired to sleep. Wake up in the pre-dawn hour, when the quail will sing, reminding cough gray guard, who sweeps territory, rhythmically waving a broom. He freezes, looking at the pale sky, where it melts and slowly disappears, the last star and tightly stretching across the horizon torn pale yellow clouds, resembling a spring furrow. Your beggar washes of transparent dew eat Breakfast, than thou, you, will send, and goes on a long journey. The beggar does not even think about the possibility of poisoning: eat your Breakfast, thank you, and again hit the road, by walking along a path overgrown with two side"s high and dense grass. He greets farmers in the fields, nodding his head, with a friendly smile on his lips, stops for a moment, listening to the sad voice of the cuckoo, which comes from a distant poplar grove. The poor have no heavy burden of responsibility. They live easily, throwing off all unnecessary loads. They live happily and easily, in harmony with nature.
  
  How about me? I can't get out of the fortress one step without strong security. Cannot move freely, as an ordinary person, can not only free to walk the fields and meadows, but can't even safely walk the streets of the capital of the Empire. I live with insuperable fear in my heart. Not sleeping at night, for fear, would you raise a riot the angry people, like a Typhoon in the ocean, destroying everything in its path, and with a shudder, I wonder if I will be hung on the highest gallows at the entrance to the Central market of the capital, dropping me from my throne, a people who are not satisfied with my policy. My heart is filled with blood when I start to think about my officials, the sycophants in his entourage that are easy to turn away from me when I fall from the throne of the Sultanate (government), and they will be the first to throw mud at me, praising the new Sultan! They will wag their Asses in front of the new ruler, throwing up his eyebrows and smiling lips, like a Bud of rosy morning rose.
  
  Think, think and not can fall asleep until morning. Even sleeping pills don't help me.
  
  It turns out that being a ruler is not as easy as I thought it would be. I was convinced that being a ruler is like burning in hell in life and boiling alive in a hell of a cauldron. What kind Punishment of, Lord?! Is it life, God, think about it! After all, even a stray dog, and it is happier than me a hundred times! Now, there's another unbearable ordeal waiting for me. Why are you punishing me, God?! What have I done to you?! - cried the Sultan Sanjar Savash.
  
  He cried for a long time. Then he summoned his Prime Minister Vazir Azam. Vazir Azam came, not lingering long. Rather, it led Naukars (security service), in whose hands the feet of Wazir Azam not even touched the ground. He was wearing a long Oriental robe with a white turtleneck on his head. Have him not only the long beard and hair were white, but and eyebrows, too, were such a same color of.
  
  - Called, my Lord, the Sultan of all the sultans of the world? - asked Wazir Azam , not looking into the eyes of Sultan Sanjar Savash, and with a low bow.
  
  - Yes, Vaziri Azam. You, this, tell me, don't we have another way to solve our problems? - Sultan Sanjar Savash asked, looking to his Minister with hope.
  
  Vaziri Azam paused a second, plunging into meditation, and then said:
  
  - No, my Sultan, unfortunately we have no other choice but... well, you know... If we want our great Empire not to collapse, then we just have to make this decision. Otherwise cannot be. That is a firm decision taken by Kiramaie Ulemas (The meeting of advisers) in closed session. As for Prince Mehmet, he is far inferior to Prince Ahmed in terms of thinking, mind and health. Oh, my Sultan of all sultans of the world! If you knew how hard for me to tell you all about it, Oh how hard! But I have to tell you this because I'm your chief Advisor. I feel sorry... - said Vaziri Azam, sadly bowing his head.
  
  - Damn you all! Get out of here now, you scoundrel! And so you're never caught my eye! - Hysterically cried Sultan Sanjar Savash and hand his reached to the sword.
  
  Vaziri Azam kneeled down and lowered his head in front of Sultan Sanjar Savash bitterly wept, shaking his snow-white beard and bony shoulders.
  
  - Chop my head off, o my Sultan of all sultans of the world! Cut! It is better to die from your sword than to see you in this position! - He cried, dropping tears.
  
  - Get him out now! - shouted the Sultan Sanjar Savash my security and cried, turning away to the side and wiping tears.
  
  The guards took away Vazir Azam.
  
  Early morning brought the executioner of the sentence, beheaded the sleeping young Prince Valiahd Mehmet sharp sword and wiped the white sheets crimson blood from the blade of the sword.
  
  Before to bury Prince Valiahd Mehmet , brought the Princess, so she could say goodbye to his son, on whose death she did not know. Seeing the terrible picture, the Princess fainted.
  
  Sultan Sanjar Savash, hugging his murdered younger son Mehmet, wept, shaking his whole body.
  
  - Forgive me, son, for I have brought you a sacrifice! I'm sorry, because I had no other way! I had to do this just for the sake of not collapsing our Empire in the struggle for the throne between you and your brother in the future. I had to pay so much for preserving the throne. May your soul arrive in the green gardens of eternal Paradise, my beloved son Mehme-e-et! - He cried.
  
  
  
  05/04/2014.
  1:20 of the day.
  Canada, The city of Brampton.
  
  
  
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