The World Goes Blind

A short story about a man in a rebellion against a dictatorship.

The World Goes Blind

His parents never had a chance. Nothing could have stopped the crimson flames, nor the poison black air from poisoning their lungs. He often thought, maybe, if he had been stronger back then, they’d still be here. That thought had echoed in his mind for ten years, clouding his heart with a fog of hatred that never seemed to leave his side. It was his greatest friend, his most terrible enemy, and his reason for living. They were intrinsically linked by chains that bound him in a black mud. 

Today, he could finally escape it. 

He stood atop a mountain blanketed by white snow. He watched the normally quiet city of St.Younum bubbling with panic. Men with guns had surrounded the city on all sides, meanwhile, the citizens stood on their makeshift wooden wall shouting at the soldiers in protest. 

Durran released a white, warm cloud from his mouth, examining as the tension and frustration soared. With light hands he grabbed a cigarette packet from his pocket. Quietly, he flipped the packet in between his fingers, looking absentminded. Then, a loud voice screeched in a warbled tone from his headset. 

”Put that damn thing away! It’s almost time for action, you oaf!” 

With a scowl, Durran glared at the top of the peaks behind him. He knew Samuel was there, perfectly safe behind the cover of the forest. Although annoyed, he quickly pocketed the box. With his now free hand, he reached down and grabbed his charcoal-black sniper rifle. With a furtive glance behind him he sneakily muted the headphones. He wouldn’t be hearing any of Samuel for some time, preferably never again. 

Within a second he was on his stomach, gun barrel pointed at the soldiers. The Endictation regime, a coup government that had taken over after the War of Hunting. No one else had their might, nor as many crimes against their own citizens. 

Durran slowly locked onto the figure in the middle of the soldiers. It was Major General Alfred Legrand; a genius in every capacity. Killing him would end this war for good. The resistance had brought every one of its fighters for this battle, they couldn’t afford to lose. 

Breathe. He could feel his blood flowing through his vessels, his fingertips tingled in anticipation, and even in the frigid cold he felt hot. He looked into the scope, quickly locking onto Alfred. Tall, blonde, wearing a bright yellow suit; he was a perfect target.  

He calmed himself, counting in his head. 

One. 

He placed his finger by the trigger, taking in a cold breath. 

Two. 

His eyes narrowed to the size of a pin, he only had one shot. 

Three. 

Alfred stepped forward. 

There was no four. 

Not even a second passed when Durran had pressed the trigger, and Alfred’s head left his body. He watched in euphoria as the soldiers scattered like headless chickens in every direction. He laughed in jubilation, “We’ve got you now you b******s.” 

He turned on his headset once again to hear the raucous cheers echoing from everyone on the team. Durran sadistically smirked as he listened in glee. 

Then, suddenly, the situation changed. The soldiers, who had appeared so scattered before, were all charging in the direction of the hidden rebels. Durran watched from above as his comrades were dragged out one by one from their hiding places.  

“This is S speaking, J quickly report!” Samuel’s anxious voice cried out. 

“S to M, are you there? Please report!” Samuel had obviously been taken by surprise, as had everyone else.  

“This is D, reporting to S, tell me where you are, I’ll be right there to help!” Durran was worried, he needed to get to Samuel fast. 

“This is S, I am in a wooden shack by our base!” 

“I’ll be there right away, sir!” Samuel was the face of the rebellion, if he fell there was no way the rebellion would live. Durran raced across the banks of snow. He needed to get to Samuel. 

It took only ten minutes to find the shed he was talking about. When he pushed open the door he found Samuel seated at a desk, still trying desperately to reach their teammates, eyes frantic and panicked. 

Durran gave a relieved smile when he saw him. He was still here. As soon as they made eye contact Samuel stood from the desk, running to give him a hug. 

”I’m glad you’re safe at least.” 

Durran returned the hug tentatively, checking behind him thoughtfully. Suddenly, they heard the sound of a gun cocking behind them. Standing outside, covered in snow, was Alfred. His golden hair fell across his forehead as he scrutinized the two, intelligent eyes gleaming. 

”Durran, quickly, shoot him!” Samuel eyed the man, a murderous glint in his eyes as he thought of his comrades being dragged off. When he heard no movement beside him, he turned to berate the man only to see Durran giving him a cold side glance before walking towards Alfred. 

”Durran- wh-what’re you doing?” Suddenly, it all clicked. 

”You did this?” He barely managed to squeak out the words. 

Durren nodded insipidly, looking at him disdainfully. Alfred handed Durren a gun and gave him a smile. 

”Thanks for the information.” 

”Anytime.” Durren said plainly. 

“Wh-,” Durren shot him before he could say a word. 

“For my parents.” He said numbly. 

Alfred gave him a gentle smile, almost looking coaxing. It gave him goosebumps. 

“We couldn’t have done it without you.” 

Durren nodded and turned to leave. 

”Sadly,” Durren saw Alfred reach for the second gun in his jacket. He spun round like a boomerang, shooting him without mercy?

”How…?" Alfred stumbled over his words as he fell into the snow, blood leaked from his mouth. Durren knelt down looking at him, face to face. 

”You think I would ever trust a scheming b*****d like you?” Durren stood, looking down on the vile man in front of him. 

“Go continue your fight in hell.” 

And with a bullet through his brows, the genius strategist, Alfred Legrand, was dead.

Author's Note

All criticism welcome. Thank you!