It's Wednesday, the usual day for a cobwebbed window to get broken
by the stone warmth still lingered from the angry kid's
wounded hand. He doesn't mean to be naughty, just want to play the role of a bad guy,
carrying an air of menace, warning people not to
come close.

Don't blame him, no, we don't blame kids here.
They are reaching extinction, one after another
vanishing into air.
That dated back to thousands years ago, and now it sounds like a fairy tale, when the king sentenced innocence to death,
A macabre scene, said,
but you don't want to recall, ever.

Sorry I lied, it's not thousands years ago, although it does feel like one.
Let's say it was a purple-sky day, Thursday or something, and his younger sister was
playing outside. A picture of the girl: glorious hair like dancing flame, only made her bony body
even more noticeable. He watched her from the house. Dah dah,
she sang and swung around.

It was not until a shriek tore the air that he knew,
something was wrong and it was wrong in way no one could fix.
He wanted to run to her, to hold her small figure in his arms and tell
solace words. But part of him knew it was too late, too late for the blood to rush back in
and too late for the berserk brute to spare its prey. People came and told him "I'm sorry",
"For what?", but no one replied because
they did not care enough. "The beast is killed and it'll never appear around here again".
Neither his sister.

Time passed, not thousands years yet as long. New glass are replaced but today is
Wednesday and he just doesn't want to witness his sister's death from the window anymore.