Today, I provide you a short story. I wrote it a long, long time ago, and I recently found it and decided to publish it here, without any editing. It is incomplete, though it still mas a very special message. I feel this Lord of Cutre'ton will feature in future posts.
"The City of Cutre’ton was in a curious state this night. Every night, the streets would crowd with nobility, for every night entitled some reason to revel. Music and revelry would be so in use that one would forget to sleep, night after night. The roads would most likely be paved with yesterday’s revelry, streamers and confetti floating like the clouds of sand blowing outside the walls. The high palace of Cutre’ton, gilded with precious minerals and mirrors shined to a polish, was the central hub of the night’s revelries. Nobilities would mimic those closest to the palace in their different revelries of court. From the heights of the Spire tops, slaves would throw the streamers and confetti over, increasing the cheer of the crowd below. The revelries would continue, ebbing and flowing with the crowd’s general degree of lethargy. The central courtyard, however, was always reveling the most actively, and the revelries declined the further you walked from it. The outskirts were usually filled with people of all social classes, dozing off the night’s revelries.
It is said that the Lord of Cutre’ton was blessed by the gods, to have every night be filled with revelry, since he so adored the night life. He has been leading the festivities every night, never wavering, never sleeping. Those who try to mimic the Lord would usually collapse within one night, being pushed to the outskirts to sleep and rejuvenate. But the Lord would continue the revelries, for this was his blessing.
Though this night was special, and only the stars saw all.
The eight Day-Stars were talking again, conversing about their own realms as if the others cared. They also conversed with the more minor stars; it was a great symphony in the sky at times, much like the one below. This symphony, though, lasted through the day, the brightness overtaking the sun, and stars never get tired of talking.
Tonight, though, both sky and city are in a much different state. As eluded before, Cutre’ton, the city between all the stars, was estranged today. Cutre’ton ceased its revelry. The people in the streets did not dance; they only stood staring at the front steps of the high palace, expecting the Lord to emerge. But naught emerged, save for an empty air breezing through the halls.
The Day-Stars, in their bright vigilance, were the only ones to glimpse the Lord running away from Cutre’ton, dancing, tears running down his cheeks. He was the Lost Lord of Cutre’ton. Not one person saw him leave. Not one human saw him run South, to the Badlands.
The West-star, watched the spectacle with interest. “Why,North-star ,do you suppose he decides thus? He wished to revel every day, and we have bestowed such gifts that make Cutre’ton the city of revelry! He has no reason to despise us!”
In his infinite wisdom and patience, North-Star was well accustomed to answering West-Star's simpering questioning. “He runs, oh insolent West-star, because he tires of this nightly revelry. He has led this repetitive reveling for exactly twenty years, today. He tires of our blessing.”
The star of the South spoke up to the North, “I see him running into my domain; I will follow his journeys, and relate to you his adventures,” the excitable South-star said, “Oh, what will he find on his journeys South!”
