666

Today I graduated high school nine years ago.

That’s right, my graduation class was the class of Evil because we graduated on the sixth day of the sixth month in the sixth year after the millennium.

06/06/06

One of the high schools in the Valley was even able to get their graduation ceremony to start 6 seconds and 6 minutes after six o’clock in the afternoon. It was awesome.

He Watched And Smiled

He watched over the people below. They were hurrying about, no one really paying all that much attention to anyone or anything around them. It was easy for them to ignore the unwashed children with empty bellies, the disabled veteran sitting under an awning with everything he owned held in a beat up backpack and his only friend a happy-looking but equally dirty dog. The garbage on the streets was ignored just as easily and the teens sneaking around the edges of the allies looking furtive were only glared at before, like everything else, ignored.

If any of the children, veterans, teens or garbage on the streets and sidewalks got a glance it was one of derision or disgust. There was no kindness happening or people giving one another a smile and a nod as they passed.

He gazed down in triumph, knowing that he had won this town fair and square.

Well, he giggled darkly, he hadn’t really played fair but it’s not like he cared all that much about such a thing anyway.

All he cared about was winning in the first place at any cost and sometimes, the cost was the best part of the bargain.

Watching as the people who had thought they were helping those they loved make the decision to cut them out of their lives. Those who thought they were getting something for nothing. Those who thought he was ‘simply misunderstood.’

He loved watching each and every one of them fall to his carefully planned traps and loopholes. It was delicious seeing the realizations in their eyes, feel the despair curling up in their hearts and souls and the darkness grow ever stronger in their minds.

This town was his. This valley was his. This country was his. This world was his.

He’d won.

 

Image taken by Thomas Marlowe on the streets of the city of York


Written for today’s Light and Shade Challenge picture: http://lightandshadechallenge.blogspot.co.uk/2014/06/light-and-shade-challenge-monday-9th.html

Also, because I just feel a little down today for some reason. Just tired is all.

White Out

“Father, forgive me.” she whispered even as she brought the weapon in her hands down over his head.

The old man slumped over in his chair, the book that had been in his hands hit the floor with a dull thump. his head tilted against the side of the wing-back armchair he had been sitting in before the fire that continued to crackle on in front of him.

The old man had been kind to her in a way that not many had ever been. He wasn’t her father, but he had been someone’s. Even now she could see the pictures hanging on the walls with faces smiling at her from still frames.

He had never talked about the children he and his wife had before her death, but she could tell that he had loved them. She didn’t know why he was alone during this time of year, but he had taken her in off the streets and given her a place to stay during the blizzard that continued to blow even now. She glanced out the window at the wash of white that reflected the light of the fire. It was bright out tonight, as bright as it had been when she’d first slumped on the porch, no knowing that it even was a porch. He’d found her when he’d gone out to fetch more wood for the fire, but she was unconscious by then.

For all his kindness, there had been an evil in him that he hadn’t been aware of. An evil that she could feel and she mourned having to do this, but knew that he would break free of whatever it was that was holding in the evil before the snow had finished settling and the blizzard had passed.

She didn’t like thinking about how she knew this, just accepted the fact that she knew it and needed to take steps in order to stop it, no matter how distasteful those steps were.

She would burn the body once the blizzard stopped, but until then he would be placed in the woodshed where his frozen body would not decay.

With trembling fingers she closed his sightless eyes.

“I’m sorry, Father.” she whispered once again.


Written for this week’s Trifecta challenge and no I have no idea where this story came from. It demanded to be written as vaguely as possible and wouldn’t leave me be.

http://www.trifectawritingchallenge.com/2013/12/trifecta-week-108.html