Vengeance
They were blue, and cold, her hands. I never realized how cold a drowned person’s hands were. And they smelled, several times I had to pull the cat away, stop her from having a sniff or even a nibble. The men and women crammed in the cages around the room whimpered and cried with grief for their dead companion, and, do you know what I have never heard such horrible sounds. Why should ordinary humans be allowed to have vocal cords is all they can do with them is make noises that sound like dogs being tortured? Thank the deities above for music eh. I couldn’t be bothered to use magic to silence my captives. Why should I waste my talent on the cockroaches who tried to wipe out my ancestors? Why should anyone waste their talents on people who aren’t worthy of them? No one should. I charmed my guitar to play something for me. It’s a very relaxing instrument, the guitar, the acoustic one I mean. Fills you with so much joy that…it feels like your flying, or getting revenge.
You see this knife. This is a special knife. It can cut through anything, including flesh and bone, because if there’s one thing I really need right now it’s the markings of a witch finder. Every witch finder has one, always going through the palm of their hand for some reason. It’s like their advertising themselves. I cut the marking out of her hands and plopped them into a bowl then cut the leaves off the plant I had grown for this occasion and tossed them in. I’ve got everything I need now.
Isn’t it funny though, how, once you’ve done something, something that you’ve put all your energy into, you feel, empty, lonely. I hadn’t completed my revenge yet, but this loneliness, I could feel it creeping up on me. It was horrible. Have you ever felt anything like that? Let me tell you something, best thing to do with it, channel it. I did, everything I felt at that moment I put into the spell that would bring my enemies, hell our enemies, to their bloody knees.
The best thing to do, after you’ve tried to channel your emotions into something but found that there’s so much of them that you just, can’t, stop, feeling, is to run. I did. I hopped onto my motorbike and blasted out of town, leaving the orange cat and men and women with purple bruises behind.
I fled to my family home. I knew we were safe now, or should be, but I still felt an odd protectiveness over the strange people who had raised me. My younger brother was feeding the reindeer. Its nose was glistening red. It was blood. Uncle Jack and Auntie Fay must have been out killing abusers again. Good.
“Maya”! I hopped off my bike and turned towards the speaker. It was my dad, his hair gleaming silver in the sunshine as he hurried towards me. “Dad”! I collided into his warm embrace and clung to him for a moment. “It’s almost over Dad. I’ve done it” I gasp out against his shirt.
“Wait you’ve”, Dad pulled me back, his eyes gleaming with wonder. “You’ve actually….the spell, you’ve”…
“finished it. Now all we have to do is wait for the suffering to begin”.
“Good” he smiled. “Come on inside. Let’s get you something to eat”. With a paternal arm around my shoulders Dad lead me into the house, picking up a warm jumper left on a chair on the porch as he passed. “Sit down kiddo. Want some stew”?
“Mmm, yeah. Okay”. I sat down and stared at the picture of a wolf pack hanging above the fire place while Dad pottered around, warming my dinner. All I have to do now is wait for the cries and pleas for mercy to begin, and then I have to start again. To wipe out our enemies I have to kill every single one of my prisoners. Do you see how much effort I have to put in to keep us all safe? A little appreciation would be nice once in a while. Dad plopped a steaming bowl of stew in front of me and grinned, his yellow eyes sparkling. “So, what’s next”?
Published 21st October 2018