The King who was also a Doctor (I hate pathology but I loved the pathologist).


Many had heard of him, but few had ever set their sight on him. He was a legend, the greatest who had ever lived. He barely ever left his dark castle but whenever he did crowds from all over the land would come to hear him speak, many young men and women hoping to gain favor in his eye. Many had come before us and many will come after us, all in the hope to make his rankings. A dark cloud covered up the sun and this darkness came with it. The silence was deafening. There he was; white crips shirt, red bow-tie and a wooden stick, he had a blunt look on his face and hoarse voice.

We struggled to hear him but no one dared to complain or ask him to repeat himself. He spoke of foreign concepts, told us of stories of strange deaths, laughed at his own jokes and coughed a lot. He spoke in great length of what he had planned for us, all the activities and trials we had to perform to gain his favor and commented on how many had fail him in the past with the spirit to frighten us. He was the king, no one dared to defy him, he wanted you to learn as he taught, speak and understand as he did, if you didn’t, you’d be struck with the red sword and forced to come back in the next season to try again.

As he finished talking and slowly walked away, the cloud disappeared and the sun was again visible. The timing could not be ignored. There we stood terrified by the images he painted to us, most of us were overwhelmed by the confusion, wondering what he meant by inflammation, the different types of necrotic tissue and why polymorphs were so important.

Yes, He was King, not by tittle or profession but by name. He was the adorable pathologist from the third floor, Dr King.

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