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An original short story
by Dragon Claw

 


Damn, itís empty. My fingers, shaking from a sleepless night and the alcohol coursing through my veins, signal the bartender. Ah, amber pleasure, rest for the weary. Redemption, thy name is booze. Whatís wrong with my head? The light burns, burns, burns Shit, I forgot to blink again. I hold my head, rubbing my eyes to stop the pain, to scrape the memories from my skull. A memory, a nightmare, whatís the difference?

Through force, I gained power and money, which left my soul a pile of ash. I fought, not for some stupid sense of loyalty or honor, but because it was what I did. I learned to kill with my hands, a gun, a knife, and a barstool.

I was a weapon. People bought me to kill their enemies, to shoot a gun or break bones, and I was good at what I did. But then…

I killed a child, a little kid. He saw our latest drug shipment, and needed to die. So I killed him. And somehow, my soul was resurrected that day.

I am a killer… Oh God, I am a cold blooded…

Stop it!

I looked up, the drink making every shadow a void and every light bulb a miniature sun.

It was a girl, a cute girl, being dragged into the back by a couple of hoods. Thought they were hot stuff, with a knife in their belt and taking some girl to rape. Oh well, it was that kind of bar.

Leave her alone.

Jeez, what fuck-up is going to get involved with those losers?

ďYou say something, old man?Ē One of the jerks sneers right… at… me

Oh, shit.

I am getting up… did I really talk? Am I really fighting again? Why the hell am I so stupid!

The fight is short and to the point. They try to cut me a new ass, and I tap their heads together. And then I choose to puke.

Pretty standard actually.

I look up into the eyes of the girl I had saved expecting something, Iím not sure what. Maybe anger, or fear, or shock.

And I did, but also something else mixed in, just a bit.

Gratitude.

Then she ran like the hounds of hell were sniffing her behind.

Splattered in blood, alcohol, and vomit, I did something I will never regret.

I chucked my last twenty on the ground and staggered out of that hole before being sick in the alley outside.

Salvation, thy name is hope.

 


Authorís notes: Bwahaha! No one can sue me 'cause it's all mine!

I know that this is darker than my other pieces, but I liked what I did here so much I couldn't help but put it up. Enjoy, and don't hesitate to send me any form of C&C, because yes, I am an addict.

 
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Last revision: May 21, 2007

Old Gray Wolf