Story Title

A Story by Taylor Sherman

“You dared to challenge me, and bested me.” Coughing up blood, the God looks into my eyes. “What type of monster are you, to be able to best the Gods of War in fair combat?”

With a blank face I look down on the fallen God. “Why, I am the thing that Death fears, where I walk, others die. When I talk, people cry. Those who fear me call me the Warmonger, those who praise me call me their Shepard, those that have met me, and they end up calling me something special.” Lifting the God up by his throat I pull him in close. “They call me the End.”

Letting out a hallow laugh, the Gods eyes gain a resigned look. “And it is fitting, for if we are not a match for you, you are truly the end.” Looking around at the piles of bodies he flashes a grin as he utters with his last breath. “May the Creator have better luck than we.”

Tossing the body aside, I walk slowly to the stairs. “The Creator huh…he who takes and gives at his own leisure, the one who created this world, its ways of giving life, and its ways of taking life away. He is the one who drove me here.” My eyes burn with a raging fire as I ascend the stairs, tears streaming down my previous blank face, emotions running wild. “He, who took away, shall suffer a fate worse than death.”

5 Years Ago

I never really knew what a family was, having been given up by my biological family for being born a male into a matriarchy society, and while I was taken in by an orphanage, it was only because of a law enacted that prevented male babies from being mistreated, but the year that I turned 13 I was kicked to the streets, left to fend for myself, for I was no longer classified as a child. With no hope for the future, and an aching desire to strike back at those who valued my life less than another, as if just because I was male I was inferior.