Chapter Ichi: Wealth

While swimming in a pool full of his own blood, the rich man was subjected to torture by the poor farmers. A fingernail gone, a tooth broken, an ear cut off. The man just tried to spread the wealth, and by doing so, angered the poor farmers. Earlier, they had a meeting, and the meeting was where they would decide, once and for all, who would take care of this problem.

The blazing summer sun scorched the people as they all did their best to keep cool while sitting at a small, wooden table outside of the farm. The farm itself was large; held a few hundred animals and about a dozen people. However, only five people showed up to the meeting. Lots of profanities and grunts were heard, as well as the scream of one farmer who just happened to test the limits of the others' patience.

After ripping his knife out of the back of the now dead farmer's head, the other four farmers marched out onto the streets; a place they rarely ventured. The sun hit them even harder once they were on the blacktop, but nobody complained; they all just marched, slowly and orderly towards the destination.

While many would call what the farmers were doing crazy, and as a result of the heat; an attempt to turn what was really a friendly gesture into a sign of the apocalypse for the very farm these men worked so hard to protect. They bled to keep this land sacred; to keep it from the rich men who just wanted to turn it into another parking lot. After their journey across the blacktop, they knew that it would be what the farmland would become if they continued to accept the man's wealth and just move on.

Trying to keep up with the good neighbor policy of the town, the rich man's neighbors definitely warned him of the incoming danger. The four farmers all began to move quickly, quietly, pitchforks in one hand, and a toolbox in the other. These red tool boxes would soon be covered in another red; the blood of their enemy.

Well, the neighbor tried to warn the rich man anyway, but his attempts failed, as he was just shooed away by the rich business man on his cell phone, constantly talking on and on about things that, in reality, didn't matter much. But, it was his was of escaping reality, and by reality, it was his way of escaping annoying neighbors who were bugging him. The neighbor just slowly backed away, letting the farmers approach the man's house, and soon enough, try to make his way into said house.

The man soon tried to do the same thing to the farmers as he did to his own neighbor, as he continued to talk endlessly on his phone while signaling the farmers to go away. They all just stood there, at the man's door, a glass door, and watched him pace back and forth in his home. The man then looked at his door again to see the farmers still standing there, watching him carefully, and studying him. He just solved the problem by closing the curtains that hung over the door.

While his focus seemed to simply be the long-winded conversation he was having on his phone, it would soon change to the violent attack on him by these so called "gentle" farm workers. They were far from it, as they have killed many people before that even just looked at their land funny. Nothing could stop them from reaching their goal now.

One farmer slowly and calmly put his toolbox onto the ground, and pulled out a hammer, examining it a bit before he began to hit the glass door with it. The rich man was startled when he heard a loud bang on his door, followed by a slight cracking sound. The man quickly ended his conversation and tosses his phone onto the couch nearby, before cautiously approaching the glass door.

He opened the shades and saw a large crack in the glass, but the farmers were nowhere to be seen. Sitting on his lawn was a small toolbox; full of screws and small tools that could accomplish some middling household repairs. He swore at the top of his lungs as he carefully examined the crack at closer detail. Soon, he jumped once again, as he heard a window break.

The man scratched his head as he tiptoed his way towards the area where he heard the sound; it came from upstairs. The man moved carefully; taking each step as lightly as possibly, trying not to make his normally squeaky stairs make a sound. As he approached the top of the steps, he saw the broken window, but nothing more. It was broken from the outside, and it appeared that there was a rock sitting on the floor that was now covered in shards of glass.

The man was both filled with anger, wanting to get back at whoever did this, and confusion, not sure whom exactly would do this to him. Sure, he isn't the nicest guy in the world, but he has made many donations, especially to that farm that really needed the cash. Then, he remembered the farmers who were just standing at his door a minute ago. The man, without thinking, quickly rushed back downstairs, only to find that the pounding at his door was happening again, and even louder than before.

The man began to sweat a bit, not sure if it was because of the heat or if he feared what these men might do to him. He remembered a few of the farmers taking his donation the wrong way, even if it was clearly a donation; he made sure he was specific. The other farmers accepted generously, treating the man to dinner as well, but he wasn't use to eating in such an…unclean place.

The man now knew what his neighbor was trying to tell him earlier, and was now hitting himself for not paying any attention to him. Before he knew it, the glass on the door had cracked a bit more, and soon a small hole was created; one of the farmers was struggling to reach in and unlock the door. The man quickly pulled out a baseball bat he had behind his couch and began to swing it at the farmer. Unfortunately for the rich man, he hit the glass door instead, shattering it. This gave the farmers an open entrance into the man's place of residence.

Evil grins and eyes full of bloodlust was all that the man could see as the farmers slowly made their way into the man's home. He heard their dirty shoes crunch on the glass as they walked over it, and onto the man's brand new carpet. He swung his bat a bit, trying to keep the men at bay, but they just knocked it away from him and then all pinned him against the wall.

Three of the farmers kept the man pinned, he could barely move against the brute strength of the three hard working men. He cringed as soon as he saw a sharp knife press against his middle finger. Blood was dripping down his white walls and onto the clean carpet as the man called out for help, but that call was soon muffled by his screams of agony.

The rich man's middle finger that was once on his right hand fell onto the floor, and the farmer picked it up, flipping the man off with his own severed finger. He wanted to fight back, but he couldn't feel anything but pain, and eventually, he passed out. The farmers let go of his body as it tumbled onto the ground. The farmers were satisfied, for now anyway, as the examined the once powerful man now on the ground.

They dragged his limp body across his carpet and into his backyard, in which a large, chlorine filled pool sat. The sun's rays reflected off the water, making the backyard even hotter than the front. The farmers were used to working hard in the heat, and dragging this load into the pool would be no problem.

His own severed finger was the last thing the man saw, as his eyes were soon cut out next, right after the man woke up. The once blue pool was now full of blood and body parts, and the now dead body of the rich man who was simply trying to help the poor farmers, but his generosity was taken as an insult.

The four remaining farmers made their way back to the farm; they had a lot of work to make up, especially since they had to kill the rest of the farmers for accepted the man's money in the first place. They enjoyed the smell of blood, so they kept the bodies fresh.

This is the start of a story that I've been working on for a while, but this is the first of the little "mini" stories that I actually decided to publish on fictionpress. I enjoyed writing this, a story without dialogue, letting the actions speak louder than words. Each story will be a little different, but they will all involve the knife, or pointed carver, as the title suggests. Debabouchou is the Japanese word for pointed carver, if you didn't know already.

I hope everybody enjoys! I will update as much as I can, but my main focus will be on stories such as Stingers.