literature

SH: Good Old-Fashioned Villain

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Literature Text

The year he'd learned how to talk was the year everything turned bad for the Moriarty family.
His parents had, innocently enough, bought Grimm's Tales to read to him. Child's tales, tall tales and fables; stories that grew within a child's mind, forming their imagination.
Most of all, Jim's. Whenever he was read a story, he wanted to know more about the villains; the true men, sitting at the top of the throne at the top of their empire built on fear instead of loyalty. To young Jim, fear was the one true weapon; it could strip away everything from which others based their kingdoms.
Brotherhood. Truth. Loyalty. Love. Gratitude. All were the binding factor needed to keep control. And fear was a crowbar that could pry them apart, exposing the weakness of others, shedding light on the weak points of others that could force them into doing anything they wanted to on a whim.
These thoughts tantalized Jim, and as his life slowly lulled into grade school, he continued his quest for such a role. The one, sitting atop the throne, surveying the empire of fear he'd built up; anyone and everyone willing to do the king's bidding at any time to save their skins. And he'd be the one wearing the crown.
In the beginning, it was simply his older brother. Taking his toys, burning them in the fireplace, and the returning them in a box wrapped in blood red wrapping paper, with a little golden ribbon crowning the top. At first, this was simply "boys being boys" to the family. But soon, the items grew in value. It turned from Transformers to model airplanes, and as the autographed Joe DiMaggio baseball card met its doom in the burning, licking flames of fear, Jim soon found his chores done for him and a free bank.
Next matter was his parents. He had tried his experiment on a child with a mind about as sharp as a round footstool; now to test his hypothesis on adult minds. On any random and indistinct day, Jim would slowly cut one wire keeping the chandelier from falling into the grasps of gravity. One day, during a dinner marked with candles and a roast turkey, Moriarty decided to make it special. He gently took up his mother's violin and began weaving the melody of Mozart's "I Allegro" into the mundane conversation of the normal. At the third peak of the song, Jim stomped his foot forcefully, and the chandelier fell. Gasps and cries blended into the song nicely, and as Moriarty continued to sweep the bow across the strings, he flashed his parents a wicked grin tacked on to an expression that spoke all that needed to be said.
And his parents all but bowed out of his life.
As time went on, pulling the strings of others became an easier task, and soon he began to interlace these strings into a web. If one person was caught doing straying from the march of his kingdom, they would soon find that a frayed wire had caused a carbon monoxide leak in their home, and they would soon bend back into shape.
Moriarty felt powerful indeed, but he was not yet the king. He was a spider and a puppeteer, but not yet had he truly entered the royal court of dread.
And so, after graduating from medical school, he moved to London to be the good, old-fashioned villains that had captured his mind and imagination as a child.
I saw a picture on tumblr of Moriarty looking especially evil and conniving, and I realized his evilness would've started at a young age.
And, voila!
© 2012 - 2024 gadzooks187
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reader-one's avatar
I love it! Mini Jim being so delightfully evil...