Writing Piece #1

The Sacrifice

I woke in a slump, my mind raced throughout the night due to the previous day's events, carnage and horror. I dragged myself through the bedroom, light filled the room, the orange hue imprinted on the blinds blinded me. Pupils dilated and retracted as I emerged into the dark bathroom, scratch here, sigh there, and ending with a neck crack. Checked the time, swigged back some whiskey to ease the pain, and crashed back into bed.

Seven Eleven was extra busy tonight; in fact it's always busy at this hour, crammed with truckers, begging homeless, single mothers knocking off graveyard shifts. Pack of Camels, miss. Sigh, a good cigarette is like a breath of fresh air to me. N.Y. is damn cold this time of the year, cold concrete prison. We're all like mice scampering around this twisted labyrinth, unaware of what really befalls upon this city, what really stirs in the darkness, what creeps in the crevices during the day, what beasts lurk the streets torturing tormented souls.

It's been ten years since that day, ten years since she died, and ten years of repentance; for sins and betrayal I have committed. I have yet to conceive redemption, yet to gain forgiveness. The memories and her ghost's, haunt me, but also guide to atonement; leading me to those in peril and distress. I walk the crooked road of justice in this alternate city of shadows and darkness.

I always walk down this one road with no street lights. No matter how many times I stride down, it never easier, constantly attacked by this state of anxiety, feel like a small child. Slowly, agonizingly slowly, it crawls up my spine as cold sweat glides down, never ending cycle. Then there was scream and then a rumbling bellow. As I ran I went over my checklist, gun loaded, sword in sheath.

The scream became more distinct, but as I drew near I realized it was only an echoe that came from a sewer vent. I eased down the ladder cautious; my trained eyes scouted the vicinity. Light crept in, flickering beneath my shadow, defining the darkness, but not dispelling it. Stepping slowly into the mud and filth, without sound, I listened for some kind of sign, signal of some sort. I could feel the crude matter absorbing into my pants, progressing into my boots as I waited. While reaching for my lighter a loud crack splintered from around the corner. I sped through the tunnel, splashing putrid sludge against my sides.

I could feel its presence, pure evil, its dark silhouette against the darkness. It was huge, its body filling most of the sewer's space, its massive head craned barely exposing its glowing red eyes. It looked like some kind of bear, furred and grotesque. It stood glancing at my feet then waist finishing at my head as if examining every aspect of me. A fragile looking woman lay trembling next to the beast, her breath steaming in the chilly air. I gave her a knod of security, of assurance that I would get her out safe, she responded with a slight twitch.

I reached for my gun, the beast charged, its inhuman speed intimidated me. I breathed slow, gained composure and raised the gun, but it was already too late, the beast launched its monstrous fist into my ribs, the pain, unreal. My head face down in the sludge suffocating me. I limped up, balancing myself on the side of the wall, realizing I was facing the wrong way. I unsheathed my sword and contemplated my next move. Unexpectedly, the woman ran past me, the beast inches away from her, time paused for a hundred years. I didn’t know how to react, she's dead if the beast passes me. Panic arose, fear began to engulf my body as instinct came into play, I raised the sword and stabbed it through me into the heart of the beast. It let out a cry of pain, almost saddening. I looked down at my own wound, painless from the adrenaline, I saw thick crimson, developing, progressing down my leg, glistening with all its glory.

I eased forward and released the sword out of the dead corpse behind and through my own torn abdomen. I slouched up and squinted in search of the woman who ran past. Poised, metres in front of me, she gazed in horror and let out a shriek. I stumbled up and raised my hand to tell her everything was ok, but the words would not come and found myself falling, falling into the abyss...

Twelve hours later I wake here, in my room, cleansed and cured. Urging for a cigarette, I search for my Camels, light one up and smile in gratitude. I feel I have finally been blessed, forgiven of sins, for the moment. Reflecting on the current ideals, I gain that acting out of compassion and selflessness brings forth a more satisfying and rewarding outcome.

We cannot change the past but can create, but shape a better present and future. For all we can do is give it our best and helping those around us. There is always a choice, whether to let go and release ones’ will or retaliate with a vengeance and grab the reigns of control and in return we become infinitely stronger. These life trials we face, shape ones virtues and viewpoints of life. How they engage everyday situations, how they react to times of desperation, desire, envy, and fear.