by Alwin Debeus
More than once upon a time, great barriers have been put up to divide the high from the low. In any civilization, it keeps the populace on one side and the privileged few on the other. Some are constructed from blood and bones to invoke fear, others from overcomplicated ideals and doctrines. Anything to keep your curiosity pointed anywhere on or before the barrier, otherwise it would fall.
Once upon one of these times, a massive wall was constructed from shining gold, and thusly dubbed the Golden Wall. The soft, sugary smell emanating from the high side had convinced all: whoever ruled over them must be sweetness incarnate. Folks referred to him as the “Fatman”—for everyone knows there is inherent kindness in obesity. Blindly they threw demanded taxes over the wall. And blind they were indeed, spending their daytime staring at this structure in obsessive awe, as reflected sunlight scorched their eyes until pop.
Unable to look at the wall, the blind despaired. Moreover, the sweet smell grew stronger daily, beckoning all to climb over.
The high side of the wall was, in fact, a plain sight: a vast ocean of precious honey as far as the eye could see. The Fatman simply spent his days devouring. At times he choked on some taxes, which he would cough up and put in his pocket.
As no eyes ever passed his wall it still stands, but the corpses in his honey are starting to rot.
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