Promised Insanity

You probably think that it’d be pretty nice if it was physically impossible for people to break a promise, on your world, huh?  Well, you’re wrong.  It would be horrible; it would destroy people’s lives.  After all, sometimes promises are made to be broken.

            “You ugly dandiweed eater!  You can’t do anything right!” Hodrick yelled at me from across the measly patch of grass in front of our school that was meant exclusively for “decorative purposes.”

            “Shut up, foxbelly!  The only reason you can do things right is because you pay people to do them for you!” I hissed back.

            A chorus of snickers patted my ego on the back.  I looked around; there was a tight circle of about thirty kids surrounding Hodrick and me.  I caught Cicilia’s eye; she was nervously chewing on her lower lip.  Hodrick noticed my glance in her direction and took advantage of it.

            “Why do you think a mud-scraper like you could ever be with her?” Hodrick taunted.

            A faceless voice from the crowd appealed to the devil sitting on my left shoulder, “Go get him Slason!”

            Without debate, I obeyed.  I lunged towards Hodrick, fully prepared to beat on him until he was a crying pulp of embarrassment.  An outspread palm, pushing me back to my original position on the lawn met my face.

            “Mr. Hiatrick, Mr. Dumblune, that is quite enough!” growled Mr. Bune, “Now if you’d both come with me, I’m certain that we can find a solution to this problem, whatever it may be.”

            Mr. Bune followed closely behind us while we entered the school, but took the lead once we were inside.

            With Mr. Bune’s back turned, Hodrick was brave enough to keep adding insults; “A person like you should never be allowed to walk next to a person like me!  Crawl, Slason, crawl!”

            “I promise you, Hodrick, one day I will kill you!” I spat in a harsh whisper, a little too loudly.

            Mr. Bune spun around with a ferocity I had never before witnessed in him.  Fear gripped at the corners of his eyes, although he tried in vain to hide it.

            While grabbing me wildly, Mr. Bune screeched, “Run, Hodrick!  Run as fast as you can and get the authorities or you will be dead by sundown!  He’s made a promise, and now it must be fulfilled unless we stop him!  Go!”

            It was an astonishingly short amount of time before the authorities showed up, but in that short amount of time, I was able to recollect on what just happened.  I had just made a promise, and on Orotho, promises are never broken.

            Never, on Orotho, had a promise gone unfulfilled without the promise-maker going insane.  No one knows why this is.  For centuries, it has taunted curiosities and troubled some of the greatest minds Orotho has to offer.  Yet, it has never been figured out.  On Orotho, it has simply become a way of life; it has been accepted.

            The first unfortunate authorities assigned to my case (the ones reached by Hodrick) came in astounding amounts, considering I am only fifteen.  However, the forty-or-so grown men could not contain me.  I chewed through whatever attempted to hold me, including arms, chains, ropes, and leashes laced with crippling drugs.  I fought through their swords and well aimed bullets.  The stars granted me the power I needed to win that confrontation, but eventually, I would not succeed in my mission.

            I chased Hodrick for days.  From town, to city, to farmland, to town, he led and I followed.  All the while, authorities swarmed me.  It took them twelve days, but eventually, they acquired a firm enough grip on me to take me prisoner.

            From there, they transported me to the Institute for Oathers (the term for those who make dangerous pledges on Orotho), and that is where I currently reside.  Madness pulses through my veins and gnaws on my brain.  Desperate power granted to me by my promise forces my extremities into fits of spasms.  The guards outside my solid cement cell feed my insanity.  They have allowed me a single pen, but no paper.

            If you are now reading this, my body was found, with my story scribbled all over it and a pen protruding from my abdomen like a scrawny javelin.  The guard who found me then must have indulged in sharing a juicy secret, and the news, if not the actual words, has reached scouts on your planet.  To you, I bid adieu, and beg that you never make a promise on Orotho.