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That Makes Sense

I sing of arms and the man who, forced by fate and Juno's unrelenting wrath, was expelled and exiled, leaving the Trojan shore. He bore long labor, both above and below ground, and in the doubtful war, before he won the realm and built the destined town, sometime before this end, goddess, daughter of divinity, showed us his story.

My wife stood in a field of white daisies, which meandered off into the far-off horizon. Her eyes focused on me, pinning me still. I did not dare move. Our kids danced and played on the field. They chased each other and giggled as children do. However, the children were a secondary thought to my wife, who had captivated all my attention.

At first, I noticed nothing beyond this picturesque scene, but the horizon, where dark, rambling clouds gathered, refused to be ignored. I tried to embrace my wife, only to be rooted in place. My body refused to comply. The unbelievable scene turned phantasmal.

Clouds swarmed, enveloping all the blue sky and turning the world dark and menacing. Our children laughed and played without light, leaving them out of sight. Fear gripped me. I looked back at her. Stunning as always, she smiled back. Her eyes danced with fire as she looked at me.

I raged against my corporeal imprisonment. My mind screamed with fear from an unknown threat. Then, a most contorted face appeared out of the shadows behind my wife. A personification of madness stalked closer to my wife. I tried to warn her. The man jerked her violently into his arms. The glint of a knife flashed. Blood ran profusely down her neck, saturating her white summer gown.

With blinding anger, I broke free and tackled the man. My fists swung into his face. Each strike created a satisfying spurt of blood. Blow after blow landed and was undefended. Frenzy. I slowed. The man's broken face came into view. It was one I had seen a thousand times. I knew every detail because it was my own.

My mind went numb with horror. A scream left my lips as I scrambled backward away from that monster. Rushing, I stumbled over my wife's lifeless form. I turned towards her, stunned. I pulled her close. As her blood soaked into my shirt, I stared down at that same smile that had always played across her lips. Her eyes never left mine.

I woke up screaming. My throat had gone hoarse while I slept. My hands grasped at the sheets, hopelessly trying to find my wife beside me. Slowly, I began to take in my surroundings as reality sunk in. I was in a concrete room facing multiple grey bars. Every other section of the room was smooth, colorless concrete. The bed I slept on was thin, and its springs bit into my skin. The jail cell was just how I had remembered—the prayers I had made the night before had gone unanswered. I awoke again to this cruel fate that I had hoped was nothing but a dream. A tear rolled down my cheek and onto my hand. The world settled in again around my shoulders.

"Man, there is seriously something wrong with you." A raspy voice filled the room. "I need a transfer." The voice was not fearful; too many years in Hell had made Fitch hard, but it was uncertainty, which was probably the closest he had ever got to fear. I looked over at the wiry old man huddled in the corner.

"How long have I been asleep?" I asked. Fitch pulled his blanket around his folded knees before scratching his beard.

"I don't know. Maybe three hours," Fitch said. "Is it a girl that troubles you?" My lawyer would be here shortly. I let the silence hang in the air. I didn't want to answer.

"More than a girl. She was my wife. I was lucky to have had a relationship too few are able to experience," I said, finally breaking the silence.

"You need to let her go, boy. She will not bring you anything in here. This is the fourth layer of Hell; do you really think she can reach you?" Fitch asked. I ignored him. He seemed wise, but he still hadn't surmised that she was dead. I got up out of the bed and stumbled. I was still gaining control after the effects of that vision. My lovely wife's face kept flashing before me. I went over to the sink, began throwing cold water into my eyes, and rubbed away the morbid images.

I laid back on the sweat-covered mattress as my mind wandered through what my future had in store: loneliness. True, unbridled loneliness stared back at me and slowly carved a hole in my heart as is its wont. I had been married to her for decades. What would I do without that kind of conviction and strength by my side? Who was I to share all the beautiful sunrises with and the steaming cups in the morning? She always liked tea instead of coffee.

I wondered what was in store for me once my lawyer arrived. The death sentence was surely on the line, and if not that, I would most certainly be moved to a lower, more terrifying section of this prison. After what I had done, I hoped for the former rather than the latter. Death's embrace tantalized me relentlessly ever since the madness subsided, and my conscience grasped hold of my actions. I had been in Hell for almost a month now. My case had been streamlined due to my political position, and it was today that I was due for my trial. It was strange to think that the next part of my immortal life would be decided by thirteen strangers I had never met before.

My month in Hell gave me ample time to think. The endless hours of nothingness in a jail cell would have been a luxury in my former life. It had been years since I had the time to think introspectively about my life and decisions. A month ago, I was the undisputed ruler of my city in America. Now, I was forgotten in a cell. I wasn't sure what had become of my home, and none of the Wardens had been willing to share the fate of my city, New Illion. It made me wonder how you measure the quality of a good ruler. My mind kept returning to the notion that a ruler was measured by their effectiveness when gone rather than present. It was an attractive idea. It wouldn't matter if you were present to give your input if you were effective. Ideally, by the end, those you left behind would be able to do what was right and necessary without your influence. If I lived today, maybe I would find out what kind of ruler I was.