This story can to me in a day dream, and I thought I would make a good one, so I wrote it down. Hope you like, please review and follow, and I will try to write more.
Spirit of a Little Dragon
when all you hold dear is taken; all you long for is revenge.
The tapping sound of my father's footsteps, matched the beating of my heart has he is marched down the long corridor, carried to my small form. Silent tears fall from my brown eyes, I stifle whimpers, remembering the last words my father had spoken to me "be strong, my little dragon" I had smiled despite my anguish. But has my father draw closer to where I stood, next to the execution room, the soft cries grew louder. He was now in front of me, he turns his head to face me, my cries stopped for a moment has the shock of my father's swollen, bruised and bleeding face stared back at me, and for as long as I live I will remember that face. Regardless of the pain that crossed his face, he smiled at me. That was when I ran for him, my little heart could not stand it anymore, I just wanted to be held by him once more. Shouts echoed off the sliver metal walls, I held out my hand to my father, but as I was about to touch him I was torn from the air by strong male arms, and my father was pushed forward. My screams grew, but the solid arms held me close, stopping any movement. The plain door was pulled open, my father stopped and turns to me, a smile on his face, but I could see the sadness in his eyes. His smile silenced my screams, and I watched has a tall man pushed my father into the small windowless room. The door shut with an audible click, and an unnerving silence covered the few people standing in the hall way. A sliver of light could be seen under the door, and I gazed at it, watching the shadows move. After what felt like a decade the light changed to an electric blue.
That's when he screamed, the light flashed to an unbearable brightness, and I shut my eyes against the light, his high pitched cry was over quickly, but the yell echoed down the metal walls and carried for minutes afterwards. I was traumatised to silence, and then the wall of shock broke, I shrieked. The strong arms dropped me to the floor, and I crumpled to the cold surface.
I was only five, but I knew they had just killed my only family. They was the second my childhood innocence ended. I turned to the strong man who had held me, tears glisten in his eye. Then the doors opened the tall man exited the windowless coffin. I glared up at him, he had blonde hair cut so short it was barley there, blue eyes has cold has steel and just has emotionless. His nose was thin and hocked at the end, his face was shaped with sharp angles, and his cruel mouth smirked at me has he waltzed by my petite body crumpled on the floor. I committed his face to memory, and was bringing my eyes back to the floor, but his hand caught my eye, a dark brown birth mark was just above the thumb on the left hand, in the shape of a oval, the contrast between its darkness and the pale, almost deathly skin of the rest of his body was what had caught my attention. My brown eyes snapped to the door has it once again clicked shout, and that was when I lost my last blockade "DAD!..." I screeched, and the laughter of the tall man bounced of the wall, mixing with my grief stricken cries, into a melody of sad evil.
"Before you embark on a journey of revenge dig two graves" – Confucius