“Good boy”

The master and his servant once connected by a feeling of respect, now separated by a once in a lifetime chance. It was time for this old tradition of treachery to be re enacted, this time with the help of a young boy, tears dwelled up in his eyes and rolled down his cheek, the gun, which was almost too big for his small hands, shook along with his curled up fingers wrapped around it.

In front of him stood an elderly man, a contemptuous look started to appear and twist his face, old age wrinkles showing clearer and clearer until eventually, it resembled a gargoyle. The stare from his eyes, it almost felt like it was looking beyond he flesh and into the boy’s soul. It was over within a few minutes, the tears which once wept from the boys pure blue eyes dried up and his face screwed up in anger, a small finger pulled inwards on the trigger and bang, point blank range, no way could he miss.

The moment his finger had pulled back the trigger he closed his eyes, not daring to open them and face the brutal reality of what he had done, he didn’t have to aim. Yet, he opened his eyes to see the same look on the old mans face, lacking the condescending look, which had been replaced with bewilderment. He had once chance, one perfect chance to end the life of the devil reincarnate, someone who had haunted him since his birth, beside the old man within the wall, a single bullet hole lay trapped in it.

“Not yet, but soon, dear boy”

He didn’t even have to ask, just reach out his old wrinkled hand and obediently, the boy stepped forwards and relinquished his grip on the gun and handed it over. Sirens broke the solitude and immediately, the old man grabbed the child’s hand and pulled him along, a begrudging look apparent on the boys face as he looked back at the spot where he once stood, ready to free himself of this life.

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A red droplet fell from the sky, followed by thousands more, blood. Unexplained to this very day, it was said that the gods took it upon themselves to bear the brunt of the worlds sorrow; each hit cut into their flesh. In the middle of this stood a single figure, for a moment, he did nothing except look upwards and mutter something with what seemed like a slight grin appearing on his face before glancing down the street.

Demolished buildings welcomed his gaze, nothing but ruins of a poor district, why they were destroyed was anyone’s guess, with no witnesses to spew out crap given in the form of a voice. In the distance, the sound of gunfire erupted.

The sound of hurried footsteps reached his ears, bouncing off the gravel and creating a grating sound, sounding like a group as the sound became clearer and clearer until eventually, shouting and heavy became apparent along with it. Eventually they mixed with the grating noise to become something that no matter how much you wanted to, you weren’t able to close yourself off from it.

The fear dwelled up in the unsuspecting figure, how many where their? Who were they? Beads of sweat began to pore down and his face. Nervously, he bit his lower lip, a bad habit he’s always had. Sure, he could have tried to keep up his tough demeanour but in truth, he was a coward.

Silence. The noise, which had threatened to overwhelm him, ceased, his question as to why was answered. In the distance, a group of unclear figures seemed to be looking up at something; sight wasn’t needed, as the sound of it shifting through the air grew more immense.

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More to come!