Ardent Blade

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Ardent Blade

 

 

 

 

"Papa, why are you walking alone in the night? It's dangerous, strangers might catch you."

 

That's what she would have said, the lonesome avenger thought, standing on the rim of a bridge above the sea, watching the cars fleeting in endless, irregular sequels along the street. Despite her brittle health, she was a bright seven-year-old.

 

He was never a man with a perfectly, disguised poker face, but the night grew darker and more compassionate, keeping him shut away from his own apprehensions for the moment, away from committing another massacre.

 

Freshly spilled crimson red stained his blade. The mangled man in the ally miles behind must have exhaled his last breath by now. The avenger made sure he departed life ever so leisurely, pierced with the pain of his blade with every fraction of time. And if this lost justice should exist in the world of the dead, the man would remain mangled and screaming in pain eternally. That would be one pleasurable sight later on, the avenger thought as he mildly stared at the frame of his blade, tilting it from side to side. He had no regrets, for prison became his eventual home the second he chose to take God's hell and heaven into his own hands, the same second the corrupted law postponed inspecting the case.

 

He carefully pulled out a stuffed mini doll from the inside of his black, leather jacket. Resting its soft form in his rigid palm, and examining the strings of its brown hair and blue frock, he reminisced the day they walked to the toy store hand in hand.

 

"I don't want it.." the girl shook her head in mild disapproval at the play set of tea cups offered, her fascinated, sickly eyes still scanning the shelves packed with rich innocent colors and patterns.

 

He attempted convincing gestures and worked hard for a good bargain with the store manager. He knew she liked the moldy rocking pony she played with at the orphanage, and he thought her lips would broaden a bit, enhancing her ailing but precious face, if he surprised her with a new, musical one.

 

"Papa, See? She looks just like me." Her fingers tugged on his belt and he turned around and looked down at the mini doll in her hand with a cute, teasing grin and blue dress similar to hers. He couldn't help but smile back at both the doll's and his little girl's expressions. She had managed to locate the last piece of the new monthly collection. It was as if she was meant to have it; as if the strings, cloth, cotton, and the teasing smile were all composed and sewed just for her

 

But it was too painful to smile back at the doll right now, and the avenger wished he could set it free along with its memories and let it fall into the sleeping, dark sea waves down there. Instead, he tightened his fingers around it and brought it close to his face, realizing, the little spirit he unbearably misses was not merely his ex-lovers abandoned child she gathered the courage to inform him about years later.

 

"I was simply unable to end her life inside me," a woman spoke in a low, sheepish tone, gently caressing her womb, then looking up with a slight smile at the silently shocked man by the apartment door, "She was meant to live. And I believe you were meant to know she does. She lives at the orphanage by the Church." The man wiped his forehead with a sigh as she completed the last sentence.

 

"What's her name?" was all he said to her after an exchange of a long, silent gaze.

 

Indeed. It was painful. Yes, there was pain again; it had come back throbbing down his throat and almost exploding in an endlessly deep sigh in his mind. Comforting words and beliefs of children soaring peacefully as feathered angels in Heavens were not the least effective at the moment. The pain had returned with a voice so strong, it revived the newly cooled anger, reheating it for an upcoming riot. He was far from done with reaping rotten souls. The stained blade shivered in his other hand, eager to plunge through the skin of those who walked away leaving the cold, inert, fragile form of the only person that truly made him see life as beautiful. They would look up startled at his leather jacket, and hidden face behind black glasses, and they would recognize him as the Lost Avenger. Their voices would plead, but that would only make their screams lengthen, and the metal deeper into their human flesh.

 

If time travel was possible, he would be frozen between the choice of reliving the first day the blissful child arrived at his apartment and the choice of infinitely witnessing the horrid death of the brutal monster that sucked her life out.

 

His every part, even the insanely angry corners of it, knew very well that all the oceans of blood and compressed screams pleasing his ears would not bring her adorable, teasing smile back. The avenger stared in melancholy at the fleeting cars, their lights chasing one another in the reflection of his black glasses.

Author's Note

Another short story purely inspired by a dream I had at night a few months ago.

*Image by ~Luckyno574

Link: http://luckyno574.deviantart.com/art/Street-Lights-78537513?q=boost%3Apopular+night+street&qo=17

Comments, reviews, corrections are appreciated.

Reviews

[Coyote Poetry]

A outstanding story. The details in your words made each event important. The story don't get into great description but I feel a very good story could be made from each paragraph. Compete story was very good. I like the open ending. The story remind me of a Kosinski story. He made you want to know and understand more. A excellent story.
Coyote

[My Fair Lady]

I am left with wanting to know more, perhaps another chapter. This is a really good story. I always love the way you promote imagination, and the way you leave a little space for creative thought of the reader. You are amazing.

[Misty Blue Eyes]

this is such a great short story...it was told very well

[Marie Harrison]

Amazing write you've created. I enjoyed your story.

[Wondering Mind]

A series of short stories in one. As if one has an all seeing eye and lives at the same instant with your characters. This is what I made of this, but it's nearing midnight, and my mind plays Cinderella at the hour...Maybe I'll revisit it later to read between the lines.