It was a blood red dawn. The scent of the red nectar of life was already lingering in the air, and surely, it would only get stronger. It looked like that the sky was ablaze, for the orange glow was like the resentment of those who had previously lost their lives in mornings like this one. The great fiery sphere, the sun, was starting to climb the heavens to take its rightful place in this world. Its color had turned crimson, which was only fitting, dripping blood droplets into the ground below. But the sun's blood was not enough, there had to be more. Pale clouds were drifting through the sky and they had taken the shapes of tormented souls, and you could almost hear their screams in their petrified mouths. The anguish of many was almost tangible, making this a prefect morning for spilling blood.

Under the blazing sky a mighty castle was standing. Black like darkness and void, it looked like it was sucking the rays of light into its perpetual obscurity, capturing them until the end of times. It was rugged, cold and many stone monsters were guarding every corner of it, in fact, they were so life-like that one could easily get a feeling that they would attack at any moment. The castle was exuding threat and a normal person would steer clear of it. But there were not any normal people around, for this was the land of madmen.

In front of the castle was a spacious courtyard, empty and devoid of living plants. There were only withered ones that had died long time ago, but their dry bodies were still left behind, half-buried by the reddish sand that dominated the landscape, reminding of the fragility of life. The emptiness of the courtyard, however, was important for events like the one that was going to occur on that morning. It was perfect place for a lot of people to gather.

Although the courtyard was vast and bare, there was one point of interest. Near the great gate, the jaw of the dark castle, there was a crudely built platform made of grey wood, a short set of stairs giving access to it. Half of its space by taken by a stand where a round stone bowl had been placed. This was the place for the king where he could watch the event. At the moment of the entertainment, it would be filled with cushions in order to make him comfortable. And at the other end of the platform, there was a strangely decorated stone pedestal. It was curvy from the top and had lots of dried blood staining it, the stain going all the way down to the wood. Not even the changes of weather had managed to wash away the blood that had been spilled. Even though the plants were dead around the courtyard, there actually were few that could thrive in this desolate place. Few patches of crimson grass were growing right at the root of the platform where the blood would flow. They were dyed by the blood and would always be hungry for more.

And today was their lucky day. It was time to invite the death.

It all began with few people coming to the courtyard. With sluggish movements they took their place around the platform, never staying completely still and wobbled around as if they were mindless zombies. And as if they were part of a hive mind, more and more people made their way to the courtyard, incoherent mumbling filling the air. Most of the people came from the miserable little village where famine and sickness prevailed, and every day was a struggle. But among them, there was also obedient servants of the castle and few soldiers, and although their numbers weren't great, they exuded raw power and fury, ready to strike their spears at anyone's heart if they did even a smallest mistake. The dreaded soldiers took their place around the platform, making a solid formation in order to protect their king – even though in reality, there was no fear of that somebody would dare to attempt anything threatening, for all the people here were weaklings and cowards.

Then came few other servants, all carrying colorful cushions. They headed to the platform in a fine organized line like ants, their movements being almost in unison. In turn, each one of them got up to the bowl and placed a cushion inside it, then turning back to the direction where they came from, soon disappearing back into the mouth of the castle, for the beginning event was not meant for them. In a short moment, the bowl had been filled and was now longing for the king to come.

And its wait was brief. The great ruler of this desolate wasteland made his appearance. From the deep darkness of the castle, a formation of soldiers came, and inside their impermeable circle was a fragile character, barely able to walk on his own. He had a badly stooped back, a long white beard that was pale like a ghost and on his bald head he was wearing a black crown that was shimmering ominously in the light of the crimson sun. He was wrapped in robes with many different colors and they were embracing his body, desperately trying to cast away the everlasting cold that tormented him. He was coughing a little as he made his way to the platform, and it certainly seemed like that the death had already started to take hold of the old man. Arduously the king made his way to the bowl while his escorts scattered and joined in with their dreadful brothers that were already in tight formation around the platform. After settling down to his little comfortable nest that his servants had prepared for him, he immediately looked like he was feeling better. Without uttering a word from his filthy mouth, he stayed there still, waiting, just like all the other people that had gathered to the courtyard.

There was one important person who was still absent. 

But what kind of a host would one be if they were late?

In a puff of a red smoke, a jester appeared on the platform. Dressed in red, it was like the drop of the crimson sun's blood had dropped on her, dyeing her clothes. She was perhaps the liveliest thing in the kingdom of madness, making silly faces and tumbling around, the bells on her headdress jingling in a strangely menacing way. She had a wide grin on her face, so wide that it was almost tearing her face in half. In her red eyes was a mischievous glimmer, along with a droplet of insanity. Her movements were so captivating that everyone in the courtyard had their eyes on her.

Finally, she stopped her gimmicks and was now standing on the platform with a straight back. She was waving at her audience, who were just staring blankly at her.

“Welcome, welcome!” Her voice carried across the courtyard. “My name is Jen and I'm your host this lovely morning!”

She made few bows as if people had applauded to her. But everyone was silent, silent like a grave. The only sound was the jingling from her bells as she circled around the platform, basking in the nonexistent favor.

“I truly believe that we are going to have a magnificent show today!” Jen exclaimed, and stopped her movements for a brief moment. “I hope many of you will participate and you have brought your family with you! But first: applauses to our dear king!”

She started clapping, looking at the bowl where the sick king was laying and he arduously raised one of his thin hands as a sign that he approved the jester's mark of respect. No one else clapped, which was expectable. Jen's lonely applause was like an eerie ticking of a death's clock, counting down the moment when the demise would arrive and the spilling of the blood would begin.

“Without further ado, shall we begin?” Jen threw her hands in the air as if her silent crowd had cheered on her, while in reality, they were just as somnolent as usual. She giggled a little bit and while it was short, her voice was seeping madness. “Come, come! Let's entertain our beloved king!”

Few individuals from the crowd started moving. It was like they collectively knew in their rotten minds whose turn it was today to get free from all the pain – or at least that was what they wanted to believe in. They moved so leisurely, creating a short line, heading to the platform. The jester was smiling widely, her crimson figure moving around excitedly while she observed the first few who would assist her in making a great show. These dull and sluggish individuals made sure that they wouldn't over-crowd the platform and only one of them climbed the stairs while the rest stayed in a line. The first one of the day was standing in front of the bloody pedestal and there was no emotion on his face while the jester was jumping around him mockingly.

For a brief moment Jen stopped her restless movements and threw away her headdress, it flew on to the barren ground few feet away from the platform where it would lie abandoned during this event. The bloody red sun made her blond hair shine with sickly color. Then, an outlandish black anomality appeared behind her, it rippled in the air and grew bigger, it was like a portal to another dimension. From its dark depths came a skinny hand, bearing the color of a shadow, and it handed a crimson hood to the jester before it retreated back to the void where it came from. However, the portal didn't disappear, it stayed in place behind Jen. She put the hood on, and thus, she was ready to become the executioner. There was one more thing she needed, though, and that was the next object she would get from the portal. A pair of hands appeared this time, holding a giant axe. She took a hold of it with a gleam of madness in her eyes, then turned around to face the crowd again, holding the axe high in the air, and its silvery, flawless blade was shining in the light of the crimson sun.

Everything was ready. It was time to begin the show.

The first victim fell on his knees, positioning himself so his neck was on the pedestal. Jen was approaching him with the sharp axe, but she wasn't the only one holding it. The dark hands were supporting her, since she had such scrawny physique and it would be difficult for her to use it on her own. Although the hands belonged to a different entity, they adapted perfectly to her movements and they could use this tool of death effectively in unison. She crept closer to the man awaiting his demise and with a wide grin decorating her face, she swung the axe and in an instant, decapitated him. The head fell with a silent thump as it dropped off of the platform, rolling down to the feet of the crowd. Nobody paid any attention to it. Blood flowed, and the parched crimson grass drank it.

Suddenly something else appeared from the dark portal. A rather large and heavy humanoid being, completely covered in darkness, stepped into the realm of red morning. This shade took a hold of the headless corpse and threw it off the platform, almost throwing it on top of some of the people watching this horror show. They moved out of the way just barely, and then fixated their empty eyes to the platform once again. The dark entity remained on the platform, ready to fulfill its daunting task of getting rid of the bodies.

Jen's manic laughter echoed through the air as the next victim took his place on the pedestal. A little swing from the giant axe and he was beheaded as well, his useless body thrown away. This would happen repeatedly, and witnessing all of these executions seemed to please the sick king. Occasionally he would clap his hands, showing favor for the crimson jester. Sometimes he even chuckled, but doing this caused him to cough violently. Nonetheless, he seemed entertained.

Sure, he was the king, but was he really the one pulling the strings here?

Numerous lives were taken, heads were rolling, a disgusting mound of bodies was piling up. And the more Jen killed, the more the reality started to distort, it seemed like that behind the scenes, there was entirely different entity that hold this madland in its grasp. The heads of the watchers started to flicker, turning to black masses, but occasionally getting back their own faces; it was like their heads were jumping in between different dimensions. Admittedly, that was a cursed existence, and one couldn't possibly retain their sanity, if there was any to begin with. The dark portal behind Jen had grown in size and it was like a gaping black hole, ready to swallow this reality, and from its depths, more hands had emerged, some doing nothing while some were conforming with Jen's movements.

And the jester, the executioner herself, her face couldn't remain the same. While her face mostly was that of a human, it would change every now and then, taking a monstrous form. Teeth like daggers, gleaming white eyes, pale green scales covering the face… Jen's appearance kept shifting, but the more she executed people, the more dominant her monstrous traits became. But nobody paid any attention to that, for they were here for blood and that was what she would offer them. She was humming happily as she kept swinging her axe.

How many dead men there were? Nobody had counted. But as the last man died, suddenly everything turned the way how things had been from the start. Distortions, the bulky shade, the portal of the void and the hands that had assisted Jen… Everything was gone. The only thing remaining of this event was the mound of bodies and the heads on the ground.

“Oh god, what have I done”, Jen spoke, but not really feeling any kind of remorse. She was having a wide grin on her face again and she giggled a little as she let her axe fall and hit the wood of the platform.

That was the point when everybody who were at the courtyard knew that the gory play was over. The crowd began to scatter, moving just as sluggishly and unenthusiastically as they had arrived, resuming their pointless and miserable lives. The king was intending to get back to the safety of his dark and cold castle and cranked up his feeble body. The soldiers created a formation around him and began to escort him inside the castle. While everyone was leaving, Jen was still hopping around the platform.

“Goodbye everybody!” she exclaimed and waved her hand to the mass of receding people. “I hope to see you again next time!”

She had come from a puff of red smoke and that was exactly how she disappeared as well. And even though she was gone, her manic laughter still lingered in the air, haunting the steps of the people that were walking away.

Only the dead stayed behind. But not for long, for the world is full of hungry mouths.