“I don’t have time to think whether it is right or wrong. After all you can’t hope for a horror story with a happy ending…”
‘The sun enables life. The rain grants it safe passage’. That was what I was told. It was what I was made to believe.
It was raining heavily and as I dashed towards the deserted building shavings of mist passed over. The rain was a white noise of nature. Of course, some people loved white noise and others found it off-putting. I belonged to the latter. It was my old enemy. It had betrayed me once, the most destructive arrow in nature’s quiver. I quickly ran in to save myself. Could this be the place? I thought. I slowly pushed open the decayed door. I was very near to completing my revenge. Vengeance was the verdict. It was the final one.
I walked up the spiral flight of stairs holding a brightly flamed candle. The flame of the candle was a tongue feeding on any oxygen it could find. As I walked, the floor beds screeched in pain. I could not do this, I had to go back, but a fierce force seemed to make me move forward. Maybe it was blood thirst. I could not escape this illusion. A soft velvet voice whispered in my ear telling me to stay over and over again, but where was it coming from? I eventually reached the top stairs. I cross-checked and compared the room number with a piece of paper in my hand which had the address just to be sure. My heart thumped like a beating drum. The air was bitter and damp, the frost pierced into my skin.
Halvard was oblivious to his surroundings and did not observe the shaft of light falling on the door that gradually widened as the main entrance door to his house was quietly opened, the lock having been expertly picked. He did not notice the beam of light disappearing as the door was gently closed. He did not hear the quiet footsteps of light rubber soles on the ceramic-tiled floor nor did he feel the breath of a stranger on his neck. He only screamed when he saw my face reflected on his computer screen but by then it was too late. No sound emerged from his throat because I had tightly clamped a chloroform soaked handkerchief over his nose and mouth.
Paralyzed with fear, Halvard struggled to lash out with his hands. The desk lamp fell crashing to the ground and suddenly his house went completely black. I twisted his arm behind his back while the handkerchief retained its vice-like grip on his face. Seeing the tears welled up in his eyes I guessed he was momentarily stunned and the searing pain that shot up his arms was too much for him to bear. As the chloroform slowly worked its way into his system, he passed out. Soon, there was complete stillness and silence.
I effortlessly lifted the unconscious Halvard from his chair with my latex- gloved hands and placed him on the floor with his back upright against a wall and his legs stretched out before me. I then unzipped the belt pack around my waist and took out a roll of duct tape with which I efficiently gagged my prisoner. I then proceeded to bind my captive’s hands behind his back with some more tape. With almost choreographed movements, I, the assailant delved into my waist bag and took out a little self inking rubber stamp. I placed the rubber end of the stamp on Halvard’s forehead. The resultant image on the victim’s forehead was of a small crimson wheel, enclosed within a circle having the words ’GAME OVER’
Resigned to an only partial victory and having surveyed my handiwork, I took out a swam-Morton scalpel that had been custom –engraved with the initials ‘R.M.’ from my belt bag, bent down over Halvard’s comatose body and with surgical precision, thrust the scalpel into the sole of Halvard’s left foot, leaving it embedded in the flesh. It gashed through an artery. Blood spurred out while Halvard –still unconscious, began his long and agonizing march towards death.
The room was filled with indescribable cold that chilled my bones and made every limb in my body feel brittle and weak. Trembling, I sat nervously awaiting my imminent and daunting future. I ran my tongue slowly across my teeth feeling the remnants of the steak that was my last meal. The steak was the last thing I had to cling to, so every bite was savored. The chair was stiff and weathered. My back ached against the taut wood. The air surrounding me was cold and dry. Normally guilt would have surrounded anyone in this situation but my conscience was not guilty. This was the last verdict I had given against those sinners. I had indeed been a useful vessel to God, for wiping away stains from this beautiful planet. Let those who turn away from the holy blessings be shot by the divine arrow. As the rain washed away both the blood on my hands and these sinner’s existence from Earth, I sat by watching calmly the drops of rain. The water, like a witch’s oil, burnt green, and blue, and white. The wind howled long, the sea growled wrong, the night that my conscience and sanity cried. No aid came from within. The night that the sinners died.
This world was not perfect. But, it was there for us trying the best it could. That is what made it so beautiful. Though it was stained with sins and malevolence, it was worth fighting for and bringing about a change. Sacrifices had to be made to achieve perfection. After all, all great changes are preceded by chaos.