Daril noticed right at that moment that he did not care about his neighbour's worries or the neighbour himself for that matter. The world had once been painful and filled with meaning, with purposes, but at that moment, all he wanted was to run away and disappear, perhaps nowhere, perhaps somewhere. The world was simply less purposeful than what he imagined before and his neighbour's apparent chitchat annoyed him to no end.
The neighbour's head fell in a couple seconds, but it seemed too slow to Daril. He had found it too strange to let go of watching every detail of its fall and then to the sword that was now on the other side of where the man's neck was. The hand was attached to an arm, which was attached to a body, which had a face that he did not recognise below a black hoodie. Daril understood at that moment that life had just been uneventful. He now felt something other than tedium and this filled him with bliss.
The man gave Daril a sword much like his own and Daril's hands moved automatically before he knew what he was doing. He grabbed the sword by the scabbard and felt its weight, it's coldness, its promise of death, purpose and entertainment.
Come with me
The man seemed to say. Daril never heard his voice, but he followed. They came back to the village and killed. He had never seen so much blood, heard so many screams, and he smiled. This feeling of excitement while the sword traversed the hard neck and bones of a man, different from the sound that it makes when it cuts a woman's neck, or a child's.
Daril enjoyed the nuances, the little previously unnoticed sounds in the world. The void in his heart was filled just like so many years before, the witch had told him. She had said he would find a boy of lightning in nature during winter and that he would take pleasure in war. He remembered her deep eyes when she spoke of sweet dates that would fill his mouth with their lovely juice. A metaphor, of course, just like the double-voiced loyal believers of the octopod god who would bring him grey sadness and torment him with yellow flowers...
It was right at this moment that Daril noticed that he had overlooked a special piece of information: the black-hoodied man had a scorpion on his chest. He turned around and saw the man putting a yellow flower over a dead teacher whom Daril had just chopped down. He felt the dullness again, but how could he leave the sword now? He would become one with the human race, but these were fated for doom. He could only advance daringly against those who once embraced him and hear the double-voiced cheers.
Oh Sharon! I played the music while reading this piece. The story plus the music gives a totally dark and exciting vibe. I'm always amazing what's inside your smart head. I totally admire how you make your little stories. Love this!
Awww, Dawn, that's so nice of you! Thank you for the compliments. <3 I'm really glad that you liked my story :)
It keeps you thinking and asking at the same time, why this and why that but that's what makes me want to read it more.
Thanks for sharing this post.