Rapunzel

Let's just get this straight. My name is Kale Stover. And I am almost ready to go insane. Hey, don't think I'm just some nut-job, or someone who is just writing these words down to get attention. No, I am quite literally close to losing my mind.

I have to say, I've fought the good fight for…well, I don't know exactly how long it's been. Time's hard to tell in my prison anyway, and from what's been happening recently (I mean in the last thousand years or so) time is getting pretty screwy outside as well.

Let me start out by saying this. My name is Kale Stover and I am—was—the daughter of Joril Stover, a big-shot in a big company. I had it all. I went to a fancy private school, I went to parties, I went driving around with my friends in a new car powered by sunlight—I was flaming! I had robots that took care of my needs—yes, robots. You see, my dad was a major player in a company that was changing the world bit by bit, piece of reality by piece of reality.

North Central Positronics.

We were the champions of the world, changing the very space-time continuum with our power. Actually, it is because of my Dad's company that I am where I am—that is to say, imprisoned in a level in the middle of the Dark Tower. I suppose I'm far luckier than the creature who is currently gibbering and screeching three floors below me, on one of the balconies, but still—a prison is a prison. And a prison that keeps you ageless and immortal, yet able to watch the outside world slowly break down (move on, as it were) is simply hell incarnate.

Like I was saying, I was one of the luckiest people in that time, that glorious golden time. I've heard my era called many things, the Old People for one, the Great Old Ones, by others, and I find it interesting that we are looked at as being so advanced. I certainly didn't think so at the time.

Then it all came crashing down around my head. Yes, my arrogance proved—

"EEEEEEE! HOW DARE THIS HAPPEN TO ME?! I AM SUPERIOR TO THIS! EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!"The hellish shriek of the aforementioned thing trapped on one of the balconies below is interrupting me. How irritating. I look outside my window, squinting through the eldritch blue glow that lights the glass from within.

Beneath me, three levels down at the first balcony above the entrance is him. The Red King, the Abbalah, the Kingfish, and several other titles. I have my own set of names for him; the politest is the Old Red Bastard.

But we know whom I speak of. The name that is feared in all areas of All-World, from End-World to In-World.

The Crimson King.

Personally speaking from my own experiences and observations, I think this guy is pathetic. I can't really figure out what he's supposed to be, some kind of god, or high-level demon. Either way, the Crimson King has become the bane of my already unutterably miserable existence. I cannot even sleep without his howls of frustrated rage and insanity waking me up, or disturbing my meditations.

Those meditations are the only things that keep me from going mad. In fact, were it not for them, I would have lost my mind a long time ago. That isn't to say that I can't leave the room I'm trapped in. I just can't leave the level. The level of the Tower on which I am trapped is like a long corridor that seems to go on forever. The halls are wide and are made of the same soot gray stone that makes up the whole structure. The halls are arched with bands of what looks like stainless steel and stone. There are doors that lead to many different worlds and they are interesting to explore…but as they are all locked, I cannot access them.

All of the doors have names on them. One of them says The Man in big letters. Another one says The Carrier. Yet another says Bango Skank. Hell if I know what that last one means. These doors are all made of the same dark ghostwood and have the hieroglyphic symbols that the Manni are so good at interpreting. Back then they were just regarded as a wandering cult of crazies that went from door to door, asking for donations. It sure is funny how they have thrived in this broken world. Every time I think of that phrase broken world I feel a small stab of guilt.

We caused this. We did. My people thought that to take of the magical strength of the Beams that support creation and to meld it with our technology, that it would be acceptable to the grand scheme of things. That we could become the new lords and ladies of the universe. By the time the Big Accident happened, some members of the Imperium's Parliament were even suggesting bringing back slaves from the worlds in addition to vacationing in them!

What arrogance we had. Such pride is what brought about the fall of all we knew. I suppose that no one person is to blame for all of this, but I still get angry when I think about it. I—

"NOOOOOOOOOOO! I WILL BE THE LORD OF THE TOWER! I WILL HAVE IT COME HELL OR HIGH WATER! HA HA HA HA HA! I SEE…YES, I AM LIKE THE DOG WITH THE BONE! IF I CAN'T HAVE IT THEN NO ONE WILL! EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!"

"Will you shut the hell up!" I scream down at the mad thing down on the balcony. The Crimson King pays no attention and continues to rant and rave about someone named Roland. Whoever this is, I can't tell you. All I know is that I was trapped up here while attempting to flee the cataclysm caused by my people trying to knock down the Dark Tower. I call down to the Red King again, but he pays no more attention to me than the very stones. Less actually, since the Tower itself is a vast living thing, either Gan Himself or second to Him.

I remember. I had just finished riding Patricia to Fedic so that I could meet my family there for the big event. We were going to do what no one had ever done before. We were going to rebuild the whole of existence.