The Court of the Invisible King
The Court of the Invisible King
Because you are nothing but a collection of borrowed goods...
Because you are nothing but a collection of borrowed goods...
You do not exist. Not as a single person, anyway. Instead, your mind is a kingdom—vast, strange, crowded, full of competing voices and characters you never chose but somehow live with every day.
In this challenge, you will write the “court” that rules inside your head. You are the Invisible King: silent, unseen, unknowable. Your subjects—the parts of you, the moods, the impulses, the memories, the traits you borrowed or inherited—are the ones who actually run the kingdom.
Write a story, scene, monologue, dossier, or myth in which you introduce (or dramatize) the members of the Invisible King’s court. You cannot appear as a character. Only your subjects may speak.
Your court can be realistic, metaphorical, mythic, comedic, chaotic, or surreal. You may invent a literal medieval court, a futuristic council, a courtroom, a parliament, or a dreamlike inner world.
Who is the Prime Minister—the part of you that usually takes control?
Who defends the kingdom? Who rebels against it?
Which character carries your memories?
Which character is younger than the rest—a child voice still influencing the throne?
What strange or unexpected subject also lives there: a ghost, a storm, a doubt, a dream, a forgotten ancestor?
How do these characters behave when the Invisible King issues no orders?
Do they argue, collaborate, or quietly influence the kingdom in their own ways?
You do not need to be literal. Think metaphor, symbolism, exaggeration, humor, contradiction. Your court is your voice broken into its pieces.
“The Royal Dossier” – You write a character file for each court member: their role, personality, secrets, and how they influence the king.
“A Meeting of the Court” – A scene where all your internal voices gather to debate a decision, react to a crisis, plan a ceremony, revolt, or simply bicker.
“The Coronation” – One of your inner parts rises to power. Maybe anxiety becomes king for the day. Maybe joy. Maybe rage. Maybe curiosity.
“The Coup” – A neglected or rebellious part attempts to overthrow the ruling voice. Does it succeed?
“A Day in the Kingdom” – A narrative following how the court functions during a normal day—conflicts, negotiations, alliances, chaos.
“The Map of the Mind” – You describe the geography of the kingdom: its borderlands, its dungeons, its temples, its archives, its battlegrounds. Every location is metaphorical and symbolic.
“The Trial of the Invisible King” – The court puts the king (you) on trial—even though the king cannot speak. Each subject testifies.
“The Court With No King” – What happens when the Invisible King disappears entirely? Who steps up? Who falls apart?
Which inner voice is the loudest in your life?
Which one is ignored?
Who protects the kingdom? From what?
Which subject lies? Which tells the truth too bluntly?
What emotions would appear as characters?
What memory would the Archivist lock away—or refuse to release?
What part of you behaves like a child, a soldier, a poet, a monster, a diplomat?
If your court were to vote on something important, who would win?
What does your court reveal that you normally hide?
Inside Out (film) – A simplified but useful example of personified internal parts.
“The Committee” by Brian Doyle – A short essay about the many inner voices arguing inside one person.
“The Library of Babel” by Jorge Luis Borges – Inspiration for creating surreal, symbolic inner worlds.
“The Ones Who Walk Away from Omelas” by Ursula Le Guin – A metaphorical city built to expose inner truth.
“The Secret Life of Walter Mitty” by James Thurber – A character whose internal worlds overwhelm his external one.
On his throne, he is believed to sit behind a curtain hiding him from his subjects. Before him, his court lies. It is a traditional court except in the absence of a roof. Before the king, an endless sky of infinite spaciousness presides and hovers, much like a second, empty monarch.
Yet there are walls, still. It is said the king has thought to destroy those walls, to leave nothing but the empty sky. But for now, he is satisfied for the walls are adorned with the jewels and sigils he most prides in this life. These jewels have changed and the sigils have evolved, but they adorn the walls still in much the same manner as before, like leaves changing with the seasons.
Before him are sides of his whole life and eternity. Before him, resides everything that is welcome to entertain or influence the kingdom.
And visitors do enter. Some enter more often than others. Some enter with grievances. Some enter with illusions. Some, with medicines. Many are asked to leave, some leave of their own accord. So let us tell of the subjects that attend the invisible king.
The most frequent to attend is the Achiever, the Completer of Tasks, the Maker of Lists. Some say that in the king’s youth, he was not found but instead showed himself a prime and frequent subject to advise and guide the king only when the king began to grow as well. He enters adorned in a white button up, pens in pocket. His hair is neatly trimmed and combed to one side. His glasses are perched on his nose. He holds a clipboard with a tablet attached, always moving, always planning. He is famous for his checklists for no one in the kingdom completes more tasks. Besides him is his animal companion: a border Collie. Much like his owner, he is always seeking for the next task to complete, the next task to be done.
For many years, decades even, the king had used him for his gain. The kingdom thrived, and so did The Achiever. The Achiever enjoyed being used and the invisible king lavished him with fame when the kingdom grew more prosperous. Crops flourished, and even in times of turmoil, everything within the kingdom was completed before the harvest and the seasons. But this time, the Achiever also dominated the court. His works were numerous, loud, and occupied the king so heavily that he was unable to see any other visitors or subjects.
Yet one thing remained forever on the Achiever’s checklist to complete: build a roof to the court of the king. Many times, the Achiever pleaded and begged: “Sir, this roof will allow the weather in. It will make things more comfortable and more efficient. How will you be able to work and get things done and get respect if this is holding us back? Does this infinite sky not remind you of your own limitations, should you have any limitations?”
Yet the king ignored this request, much to the annoyance of the Achiever. Moreover, the king had come to see the Achiever less and expand his kingdom less. It is much to the King's credit that the Achiever has experienced little difficulty in this regression of status and attention. He still pleads with the king, but no revolt has been planned. He is still a loyal subject and the king, knowing his use, still tends to the Achiever with utmost respect for he has helped make the kingdom what it has become.
Next to attend were the faithful and the religious.
It is said, years ago, that a Christian minister would attend when the king was a juvenile. But this Christian minister knew not his own faith or his own position to be able to convince the king. His stuttering and stammering often contrasted the neatness of his black clothing and white collar. Shy and servile, the king dismissed him after giving him the strongest audience he could. That minister could not justify his own place in the court and left, ignored, under his own murmuring and stammering.
That is not to say that Christianity has not remained in this kingdom. Instead, it has returned in the form Mohn Jilton, a great story-teller and poet that does not bequeath truth unto the kingdom through his Christian tales. Instead, his tales dazzle and inspire and are filled with symbolic revelries that grasp the attention of the king and kingdom. His puppets of Satan and Raphael and Jesus and God, so intricate and beautiful, tell tales of redemption and sin and woe. They much entertain the king and kingdom and dazzle in their craft.
But they do not lay any spiritual foundation in this land. They are but what I have already told: stories of great craft and symbolism. And for this, this kingdom sees them as enough and fit enough to have a place here. For why should they be anything more?
The spiritual place of the kingdom is adorned by some of the most respected and tortured souls. These are the ascetic monastics. There is one, of Buddhist Tergar school, who is the face of the perfect Buddhist Monk. He is clad in yellow and maroon robes, his head is shaved, and his face is in one of two expressions perpetually: peace or smiling empathy. He has been on many retreats and gives profound wisdom to the kingdom of how to live and the king and kingdom are forever grateful. It is said that this monk loves, more than anything, the missing roof of the king’s court. It is said that he has said the king’s court would be better with no walls, and that these walls would allow him to see the land that he so governs. But it would also remind him that this land is not governed at all.
He is a great man, and one that has come but recently into the fold. It is as if he had lingered, some fifteen years, to only now become a stable fixture in the court of the invisible king.
Next to the yellow and maroon monk is his Japanese companion, clad in black robes and wearing long, graying hair. He has not much to say and does even less. Instead, he reminds the king to always make time to ‘sit.’ He encourages the kingdom to ‘sit.’ And he will often ‘sit’ himself. There is little he says or does beyond sit, and the king loves him for it. For when the king has often found shame in his actions or words or deeds, the Sitting Monk reminds him that silence and inaction are, in fact, a form of action. That when a kingdom is to be ruled, the subjects rule the king more than the king the subjects. And that to sit, to be silent, and force the court to wait is the greatest act of freedom the king can take.
He has only recently begun to sit. It has displeased many subjects, especially the Achiever. However, we have noticed a greater ability to manage those subjects in the times that followed.
So to sit has indeed become a powerful act.
One more still walks with the Buddhist visitors, if walking could be called. He is known as the Hungry Monk, and he runs around, animal like, on all fours and growls; he does not speak. I know not what clothes he wears for they are layers deep and all entirely colored of dirt. His hair looks as if it were never cut, his shoes of different make and hue. His nails are short and were bitten down, and often, in his hands, he will be toying with a piece of earth, fixating on it as if it were the most precious jewel.
This ascetic was not welcome in the court until the roof came off, and was not respected until then, either. For when the roof came off, the Hungry Monk entered to speak (or growl) to the king. The king gave him his attention, wondering of his true nature. The monk showed him his ribs, his body, underneath the clothing: it was thin, famished, and boney. Yet the Hungry Monk gestured to the king, showed his ribs, and showed his strength. He was not tempted, he was not lured, and he was not bothered by the hunger that often bothered the king.
I must digress for a moment, for a great thing happened here that elevated the stature of the Hungry Monk as a central figure in the court.
For decades, another three graced this court. These three had strange names, strangers figures, and strange desires. First there was Cir, who was tall, strong, and the epitome of strength. Some say he was the strongest in the kingdom. Then there was Bur, short fat, but inarguably astute with his choice of flavor and Austin nice. Finally, there was Us, a nervous, skinny man that consistently picked out food that was not tried yet.
These three directed the king’s tastes for years. When a banquet was laid out, Cir would remind the king of the protein and strength that he would need to get stronger. Bur would pick out the finest flavors and the greatest of delicacies. Us would be anxious and remind the king to try everything, not missing a single flavor.
The king liked these three very much and would often throw banquets in times of struggle. When the kingdom would be struggling in its own respects, the king would hide behind a banquet of food and lavish tastes to conceal the uncertainty in the kingdom, even if the subjects were not hungry.
When the Hungry Monk began to attend the court, Cir, Bur, and Us were not satisfied and immediately began to scold the ascetic. For once, in decades, the king did not heed to the request of the three-headed feasters. Cir begged, “your body will grow weak if you were not to eat!” But the Hungry Monk showed his strength, and the king was impressed.
Bur begged, “These flavors are incredible! You must try this flavor and another.” But the Hungry Monk growled and the king knew that flavors would go as quickly as they came. That any flavor that nourished the body is to be appreciated, for all flavors help the kingdom survive.
Us begged, “Please, eat. There is so much food to try! If you don’t eat, you won’t be able to try it all!” And the Hungry Monk laughed with all his might, reminding the king that there is an infinite number of flavors, and that the fixation on trying them all would drive him mad.
The Hungry Monk finally turned and said the only sentence I have ever heard him utter: “How quickly it all fades…” With that, the king began to invite over the Hungry Monk at his own will. Daily, he would invite him.
That is not to say the he dismissed Cir, Bur, and Us. Seeing their use, he thanked them and continued to have them grace his court. But when they spoke out of turn, the King would bring in the Hungry Monk to keep them in check. The king would bring the Hungry Monk daily, to ensure that they would never speak out of turn again.
And such makes the spiritual nature of the kingdom at present.
End of Sample...