Revenge |
The dim light flickered unnervingly from the small office at the end of the hallway where his cell were placed, and shone through the cold bars which isolated him from the rest of humanity. He glanced behind him, the eagerness starting to rise in him, as he looked at the naked walls and the only two inventories in the tiny, square room: a bed and a filthy steel toilet. On the bed lay a thin madras, its grey fabric covered with holes and tears and in one place a spring had pierced through it. He was filled with a deep sense of revulsion and thought to himself: Not long now…
At a far he could hear a consistent clapping and a mellow, shuffling sound. He pressed his face in between the prison bars and instantaneously felt the harsh cold of the metal burning on his cheeks. As the steady beat of the metallic clicking came closer he saw the source. The prison guard had come back from his nightly round to check on the inmates. He walked slowly with a slight limp and a bored expression on his face. As the guard approached he withdrew into the shadows of his small cell, a corner directly under the glass-less, barred window through which a streak of pale shimmering moonlight entered and placed a dim-lit spot over his bed. The guard passed by, gently humming to himself, and continued down to the office. He sat down on the primitive desk chair and put his feet on the desk in a casual manner. Suddenly a faint boom was heard from a distance, followed by the crackling of gun shots. The guard almost fell backwards in his chair of the shock and quickly arose to his feet and reached for his radio, but before he could do so a second, much bigger, explosion had blasted down the stone wall behind him, burying him alive. Before he could react the shockwave of the blast hurled him against the wall and he succumbed to the swallowing darkness.
As he awoke he realized that the explosion had torn down the walls of his cell and fallen over him, but miraculously he had survived and was relatively unscathed, though trapped in an air pocket under the big pile of rubble. At first he thought that he was completely buried, but after a while his eyes had adjusted themselves to the darkness and he could notice a vague hint of light seeping through the narrow cracks between the chunks of rock. After what felt like several hours he had managed to squeeze through the largest opening he could find and stood paralyzed at the scene before him. What had been a solid stone prison were now reduced to a bare desert landscape. Layers of gravel and dust were the only remains that could testify of the once robust structure of the now obliterated penitentiary.
Something’s gone wrong. Something’s gone terribly wrong. This was never meant to happen! were the only thoughts rolling through his mind as he horrified watched the demolition around him. As the shock faded and his thoughts became clearer the hatred arose in him. He knew who had done this, it could only have been one person. He dragged himself over the rough relics of the prison, made it past buckled cell gates and dead, severed bodies. In some places there were nothing more than a puddle of bloody pulp and his entire being was permeated with repugnance and grief. If it weren’t for the complete determination that had taken control of his body he would have vomited. As he reached the glade of the nearby woods he heard distant sirens screeching through the night. Hastily he ventured into the forest.
Low branches rasped his skin and factory smoke from the industrial site filled his lungs, but he had only one target before his eyes and would stop for nothing else. He took a long path around the outskirts of the city and arrived exhausted, but undetected at the iron fence which surrounded a vast and lush garden. In the middle a grand and ostentatious mansion stood firmly, overlooking all surrounding areas. He knew who lived here. He knew that the man who had pretended to be his ally were unmarried and lived alone, with the exception of his house-keeper. Effortlessly he climbed over the fence and charily sneaked behind trees and bushes and eventually made it to the backdoor, hoping that he had remained unseen. He shivered slightly, but more from anticipation than fear. He was finally to settle the old affair between him and his alleged friend. Inaudibly he picked the door lock and went inside. He knew a silent alarm had been raised and sent to the police, but he didn’t care. He had more than enough time to do what he was here to do, and he was completely indifferent of the consequences. All the time in jail he knew he wasn’t guilty of the crime he was sentenced for, it may have been the only thing that kept his sanity, knowing he were innocent. Silently he entered the kitchen and took the biggest knife he could find, before he went further into the building.
“So you survived?” said a low voice from the shadows in a calm tone, almost solemnly. “To tell you the truth, I wouldn’t have expected any less of you.”
“You know why I’m here”, he replied equally calm.
“Ah, yes! The primitive, but oh so fulfilling revenge. You’re here to kill me. And nothing I offered would spare me? No, that’s not your style. You always were honest. Wily, yes, but honest. And that’s why you could never be trusted.”
“I can’t be bought like your other trolls. Where are you? Show yourself!” he shouted in anger.
“So eager!” he said sardonically, as if he were speaking to an overexcited child reaching for candy.
A sudden burst of light lit up the room, the startling flash stung his eyes, making them flood with tears. He could now the well familiar man sitting in a poufy armchair placed at the back corner of a spacious living room.
“Well go ahead! Here I am! Aren’t you here to kill me? Well, do it! I won’t stop you”, he said with an exhorting wave of his hand.
He hesitated, unknowing if it were a trap or not. As his deep hatred clouded his better judgment he thundered forward, swinging the knife high into the air, but after just a few steps a deafening shot sliced through the silence, sending him tumbling to the floor. He looked up only to find the armchair splattered with blood, its occupant’s punctured head tilting forward, a gory substance dripping down on the Persian rug. He turned around; facing the executioner, but a swift glimpse of a smoking gun barrel was all he saw before darkness once again enveloped him.
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