A King's Demise The Thrilling Quest for Immortality

By Herb Wright

A King's Demise is a story about a modern-day King attempting to escape the inevitability of death. He has riches enough for a hundred lifetimes, but he cannot bear the thought of leaving it all behind. It is not just t money; it is power and the pleasures that death will cruelly take from him. As the CEO of diverse enterprises, he has complete faith in his ability to overcome any obstacle and indulge any wish. Why not, he is the Einstein of capital. He is surrounded by gutless peasants with little minds and no purpose. The only reason others die is because they do not have enough vision and resources. He will persevere, no matter the cost.

The King's media empire, Defense contracts and agri-business effect the minds, safety and health of  multitudes of Americans. In A King's Demise you will read the story of the comical, the damaged and the brave and enlightened people who bond together to topple the King.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Herbert Wright
• Release date: Feb 7, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215739648

Herb Wright

Herb Wright is the author of, A Passion for Chaos, a Psychological Thriller. The cental characters are four African American professionals. A single act of betrayal is the catalyst for page-turning suspense, set in Harlem, NY. His debut novel is Do Clones Have Souls. The story of a new, ostracized group of Americans and their journey to freedom. Herb Wright completed Graduate and Undergraduate studies of Political Science and Psychology at City College of New York. He worked as a Mental Health Professional for 30 years. Most recently, as Chief of a division of mental health at a VA Hospital. 

Book preview

Chapter 1

Joe awakened. He completed his prayers and cleared the debris from his path. Rats darted in and out of cracks in the wall. He ignored them and the foul odors of old wine and fresh urine. His ears heard echoes of boisterous voices as teens passed by the alley. He remembered how drunken teens beat him and set others on fire. Gradually, the echoes faded and relative quiet was restored. 

Joe headed for the bathroom outside of a Mobil station. He lingered outside and waited for an opportunity to enter. He washed every inch of his body, reveling in the joy of cleaning.  His pores breathed. Renewed, he found a bench and began watching people as they passed by, imagining their life stories.

As he watched, he waited. He felt that God would give him a task today, so he looked for a sign. He loved hearing that voice. It made him surge with power.  When God called him to great tasks, he first heard demons, then angels. They fought against each other until he felt his head would burst. Joe sweated, he shook, and then the almighty told him what he must do.

His stomach’s urgent hunger slowly overwhelmed his spiritual meanderings. He asked strangers for money and searched trash cans for newly discarded, half-eaten sandwiches. Midtown was a good area for food. Either people were in groups talking and too busy to eat or working during lunch, barely able to eat. Joe was quickly able to eat until he was full. He didn’t eat much even when times were good.     

Joe entered Central Park at 57th street and walked to a small hill where he would often watch children in the playground. He felt this was a place of sheer joy, innocence and life in the moment. The children overcame fear on the monkey bars and felt heights of exhilaration on the swing. They learned cooperation and shared reward on the seesaw.

––––––––

The children were running, their gleeful chorus of laughter surged into the sky like a bundle of balloons. Their energy filled him. He wished the greatest of all possible destinies to each child. He then looked beyond them to the cold gray buildings that dwarfed everything around them.

Hey, you pervert, what are you doing watching the kids?

What? he said.

You heard me. Are you planning to snatch some kid?

Where would I take a child? I have no home or no car to put him in, he said.

The man was confused for a moment and did not respond.

He then said, You better get out of here.

I love it here why. Why would I leave? Joe said.

The man took out his cell phone, Do you want me to call the cops?

No, he said. He loved this spot but the man will likely not be back tomorrow, it was easier just to leave.

Were you sent by the men in the big buildings? he asked.

The man just stared at him and pointed for him to go. When he reached the street, he was arrested based on the description that the man gave of him. Police handcuffed him and took him to the precinct.

When he arrived at the station, he took a seat next to two men who glanced at him as he sat down. They determined that he was harmless and continued with their conversation as if he was not there.

So, my girl leaves me cause I hit her and it wasn’t a real hit. It was a slap like a love tap. I was ready to fire her anyway though, so I let her leave. It’s not like that shit was new to her, her stepdad used to beat her. That motherfucker was a piece of work. He used to tie her mother’s hands on that pole that goes across the top of the closet.

You’re fucking kidding.

Naa, man and it would be over some stupid shit like she wore red on Tuesday, or she was blinking too much.

The second man asked, So where is she at?

Peep this, she goes down south to find her real dad, he lives in Westbumfuck, Alabama or some shit. He hasn’t seen her in 15 years.  He said he is sorry he left her, he is going to kill the stepfather, blasé this blasé that. She called me and told me how I’m a piece of shit and how her life is going to be so much better. Then the father gets high, asks for a hug and tries to fuck her. So, she comes crying back to me and she looks like she just escaped from a mental hospital, I mean, like that look you see in the movies when the killers coming, like she is screaming with no sound. That’s how she looks all the time now.

"Sounds bad but fuck her, she called the cops on you, right?

Naa man. That motherfucker messed up my girl. I drove down south and maimed his ass. They found me, so I have to face charges in Alabama. Nobody messes with my baby; you know what I mean, slick.

The second man nodded.

And dig, I got this connect downtown this high-powered dude I do some work for some time, he really has juice. I called him. He may be able to get me out of this shit.

The second man said, He got it like that, B.

Yeah, just like that. He owns a whole fucking building downtown. This dude got worldwide shit

Joe was sitting quietly, ignoring the men, when suddenly he felt the demons. He could smell them. He tasted their bile on his tongue. He felt nauseated, like he was about to throw up but instead the demons expelled their voices into his head. Their words demanded his death, by command, by urging, by using the voice of departed loved ones and one loud persistent voice, his own.  He felt intense revulsion and fear. He was desperate and anxiety overwhelmed him. If he had an ax, he would cut off his head.

When the pain reached the pinnacle of his tolerance, he saw the angel. She flew toward him, and rays of light emanated from her fingers. She entered through his eyes. The light temporarily blinded him, and the voices loudly persisted. Outwardly, he was immobilized. Inside the battle has begun. He felt them all over his body, they crawled up his legs, and they wrestled in his heart and descended into his liver. The war advanced and each conquered one side of him.  They vied for his mind, soul and his body. He felt like he was chained to two horses about to race in opposite directions and rip him apart. Then he heard the one voice. Everything changed instantly. He felt joy so intense it was tangible. His body tingled with energy; his mind vibrated with enlightenment.

The Great Voice said, My son, your duty is clear. You must go to the cave of the Craver and bring light. The bleeding must stop.

And with that, the great voice and all that preceded it left his body.

Hey, are you ok?

What are you on? The cop shook him. He tried to compose himself.

Come with me, the policeman said. Joe’s mind was elsewhere, he tried desperately to let the presence of the Great Voice linger and to remember God’s message perfectly. 

The cop repeated himself, I said get the hell up.

The two men sitting beside him were laughing at him. They have watched him the whole time. They saw him talk to himself, scream in pain, stiffen like a board and now he had this fixed, goofy smile on his face. One man said,

Man, that must be some new shit you’re smoking.

The second man said No, that must be those prescription drugs they advertise on TV. You know may cause this, may cause that. You should have read the fine print, Homey.

He walked away with the police officer who told him to have a seat.

Name? He is quiet.

Hey, didn’t you hear me? What’s your name?

His nerves were still tingling from his powerful experience, his body occasionally shook, an after-shock of delight. He was oblivious to the policeman’s question. 

Hey, the cop yelled, Are you deaf?

Reality was vague; his vision was hazy.

What? he said.

Listen you freak, you got one more time to answer my question. I hear- I don’t know, Hari Krishna or any other bullshit and you are going under the jail.

He heard every other word like his brain was a cell phone that was out of range. He felt the policeman’s anger, so he responded. Sir, ask me anything you like. I will be glad to cooperate.

The cop said, Gooney bastard, what’s your fucking name?

I am the servant of he who is great. You may call me what you wish.

He saw the cop’s eyes redden and the veins in his temple bulge, so he quickly added,

I was kicked in the head many times by a group of misguided youth. I don’t remember my name and anticipating your next question, I live on the street, and most people call me Joe, sir.

The policeman calmed down. I gotta put something down, you want John Doe?

He waited for inspiration, finding none, he said How about Joe C. Doe?

The policeman answered, I don’t give a fuck.

He liked the name and decided he will use it from now on. Occasions where he had to use his full name were extremely rare. Yes, this suits him. He was finishing the booking process. The policeman gave Joe a Desk Appearance Ticket but he did not leave. He felt he must talk to one of the men who sat next to him before he heard the great voice. He felt that he was the key to the next step in his next great mission. He looked everywhere but they were gone.  

Chapter 2 

Cleo F. Bloodworth is the CEO of Reversal’. He prefers to work at night and leave before dawn. His executives thought he did so because he was an eccentric genius. They didn’t care as long as he kept making them filthy rich.

He was on their iPods, he teleconferenced, he texted, he tweeted but he didn’t do lunch. Reversal’ is the sixth largest corporation in America and is a world leader in bio-foods, defense and media.

His work was his life with one exception, Tiffany-Mercedes, TM. He trusted her more than the Board members in his empire. The two of them shared every physical fantasy that their fertile minds could create. She anticipated his every need and fulfilled it. She was a submissive sex toy, a witty companion and a dedicated and brilliant mirror for his ideas. She knew her value.

Today, after Tiffany made several requests, Bloodworth agreed that he would share some of his background with her. He was secretive by nature but she argued that it would make her an even better lover and companion. He acquiesced to her logic.

She entered his penthouse.

I’m here, Cleo.

Come in the bedroom I’m about to take a shower.

He looks  at her and does not hide his disappointment.

What is that you are wearing? I have never seen you look so ordinary.

It is just a pants suit. I have a lot of questions and I want you focused on my words, not my body.

You think I am a child that cannot control myself if you are in a short skirt.

No, you are an extremely passionate man who feels no need to restrain himself from his desires. This is especially true with me, someone who is ordained to give you pleasure. She smiled.

"You know,

I don’t have a lot of time."

What you give to me is thoroughly satisfying. I doubt this will be different.

What do you want?

I want to role-play. I will be a mystic reporter."

What is that?

I will ask you questions and you will answer them in such a way that I will have more than knowledge. I will have insight into your being. TM said.

You expect a lot.

Just play the game. We usually have such delightful outcomes when we play together and remember you have a real interview tomorrow.

Bloodworth had an interview at one of his many radio stations. He thought this might be good practice. Although he would tell Tiffany much more because he knew she could turn sewage into sunshine.

Okay TM, let’s get this over with.

Tiffany took out a mike with a cord as a prop. It was not attached to anything.

So, sir you are a mogul. A man who is powerful admired and loved by women on four continents. Yet, your first business was pigs. How do you respond?

She pretended to shove the mike in his face like an over-eager gossip reporter.

Bloodworth was annoyed and amused.

"Yes, food was my first business.  I worked on the Kill-floor at a company that sold pork to supermarkets.  I and other men would slaughter pigs. We used saws to dismember the pig’s bodies. While life was fading from the pigs, pieces of blood and flesh splashed against my goggles and face. I wiped it from my brow and sometimes blood dripped into my mouth. 

I liked the kill floor the way a basketball player in a gym likes the echo of the ball as it hits the hardwood floor or the squeak of his sneakers when he pivots. I liked hearing the pig’s squeal, the crack of the bones and seeing the blood pouring into floor drains from all directions.

I know how much you love using the blood. I like it when you pour it on me and the cocktails you make. As you moved up in the company, how were you able to indulge your pleasure?  She asked.   

"Later when I owned the company, I would still return to the Kill-floor at night and slaughter pigs. My employees admired me for this and thought I was one of them. I just enjoyed the work.

I had come to accept that I liked the power I felt in killing and quartering pigs. But it was more than that. I would eventually open new pork businesses all over the world. I was happy with my success and had killed pigs in Brazil, Mexico, Canada and Italy.  I took vacations only in places where I owned businesses. Part of the vacation always included killing pigs.

Were you ever discovered by a reporter that thought she was better than me?

I was not then a public figure. Yet, I was already associated with beautiful and successful women. I had no doubt or fear. I wreaked confidence and women loved it. Are you sure you want to do this, TM?

How else would you know now that you are now with the best? Continue.

He knew that her confidence was real but also that she was just a little jealous. The right balance, he thought.

Bloodworth was barely six feet, stocky and with a boyish appearance. He had a full head of hair slicked down like from a bygone era. He dressed immaculately but when he took off his jacket you could see the hair on his back. He always spoke with his hands locked behind him. When he looked at you, you didn’t know if he was excited about his topic or slightly crazed. 

I often took my companions to my home. There they were frequently drugged and awakened in the master bedroom of one of my palatial homes on satin sheets, tied with heavy twine and covered with pig blood. I was an insatiable lover, lusting as much for the blood as for their bodies. Slurping, licking, writhing, probing, my passion became theirs and most of these women left uniquely satisfied. Those who made a fuss were either paid off or disappeared. It was while I was dismembering a former lover on my Kill-floor in Brazil that I tasted human and pig blood together. It made a nice cocktail.

I am so glad you did, my love. I enjoy the fruits of your early experiments. Your lovemaking and blends are perfect now.

Aren’t you supposed to be in character, TM?

"I am getting excited, she said.

So, I will talk more of business.

Okay.

A few years after taking over the pork business, I was approached by one of my executives about bio-foods and I listened. The executive explained that this was an emerging high-tech industry.  He said how seeds could be developed that were drought resistant and other seeds could be created to make a smell that repelled predators. Once we owned this science, he said, the company could make a fortune.

"I knew at once that this was a great idea. I read the research that was available at the time and bought a small company called Genuflect, which had the best ideas and most promise.

"The President of Genuflect was a scientist, not a businessman. He tried to hold on to the company but I convinced his colleagues that they would never