Alas!!!! Tis the season again, another year to pick a new king,

The drums, each with its unique beat and each representing a different clan, beating hard

But songs of war are being sang beneath the thunderous beat of the drums,

Evil motives moves the feet of the clan leaders, rather than the beat from their drums

Dis-trust and threats is masked under endearing smiles and embrace,

One would almost think he/she was in the presence of gods, in the graceful manner they carry themselves in the presence of fellow contenders,

But the people can’t help but notice the helpless sway of their eyes darting to the ultimate prize of the THRONE

One would think that it is the fountain of life itself.

Indeed, time draws nearer, excitement in the air,

The clans push forward the contenders, let the people choose they say

There are shouts of joy at the arena-

Suddenly it is cut short by a heavy mist of despair, screams of anguish, confusion and pain become the very air they breathe

What is this? They ask themselves

The wine we all drank is poisoned! Shouts one man

Who poisoned it? They all ask

But silence answers their question

Slowly the poison entwines with the heart and gives life to distrust amongst brothers, anger against elders, confusion amongst the wise and hatred to the very earth that gave life

The making of a king

No longer is a festival

But war, war not with enemies or strangers

But war amongst brothers

The war songs sound louder than the beating of the drums

Evil no longer wears the mask of a smile or an embrace

Feet move with an intent to kill.

The contenders look on from their high stools and give orders to those whom they choose for game…

Written by Miss Yelnen.