In ages past, there was a mighty king. His empire was vast, his armies undefeatable, his wealth beyond measure. Yet, his greed and lust for power was unquenched and seemingly unstoppable. Instead, of using his powers for good- he used them for wicked evil purposes. He demanded that all people of all races submit to his tyrannical rule. The peoples cried out but noone heard their cry. Then in one Spring- his emissaries discovered a small kingdom ruled by a brave Princess in the far far north which refused to submit.
The kingdom's princess spoke out - "No. Is that a word you do not understand? Why bother us? We do not trouble you! What are we to you, o great and mighty king? Go your way, and leave us in peace!"
But the wicked ruler refused and reigned in his horde armies for war.
Yet as doom seemed certain. The Princess sent forth a magician to the callous king. The magician was a great conjurer- and he charmed his way to the Tyrant's courts.
Then he spoke: O' Great and Illustrious Ruler. Why do you trouble our little fiefdom? The annual income from our puny settlement will not even cover the wages of your military for an evening. But allow me to speak - I see that you greatly fear the deep darkness that no man or woman can escape. Death terrifies your majesty. As your forces strive for glory, you seek to defeat death and achieve immortality. Be happy! I can give you what you ask for. Your kingom will last for all eternity. Your armies' weapons will never rust or falter. Your wives and concubines will remain forever young and supple. Your gold will gleam forever. Your palaces were never turn to dust. No assasin or ursurper will touch you.
The murderous ruler- taken aback by the magician's brazen insight- was stunned. He ordered the magician locked away pending execution.
Yet, in the quiet of the night, he met with the magician and demanded what he asked for.
The magician asked that the process could take long- for he had to write down in a golden book whose pages were made from gold leaf- the tyrant's story.
And locked away in the dungeon, the magician wrote... and wrote... and after three winters had passed- he had completed the book. All he asked was that the ruler- sign his name and write "The End".
The wicked king hesistated. But in his arrogance, he signed anyway. It was afterall a flattering and glorious account about his kingdom.
And then suddenly, all things started to disappear, his armies, his palaces, his wealth. Until finally he was gone. Everything was gone. No one could remember the king. All that was left was the golden book- the pages of which contained the story of a wicked and evil king whose armies were undefeatable, whose palaces wore splendour without belief... A story that would last for all eternity in a book made out of pure gold.
copyright- yau-ming 2005