Woes of the Vengeful

A young man regrets vengeance.

                Henry watched through the green vibrant trees which obscured the road as they reached ever further into the sky. Soon enough a stout figure could be seen through the trees. As the figure came along an unobstructed portion of the road Henry made him out to be Mr. Phelps. Huffing and puffing, red in the face Mr. Phelps turned to see Henry and his mother waiting in front of their house. Mr. Phelps stopped along the road and waved beckoning them. Henry jumped from his seat on the steps.

“Sit down and wait here.” His mother said as only a parent could, putting a hand on his shoulder sitting Henry back down on the step.

            Henry's mother quickly walked down to the road. Henry looked on as Mr. Phelps began to speak to his mother. He tried to guess what they were saying but wasn’t quite sure. Mr. Phelps flailed his arms around as he spoke, finishing he patted the old service pistol on his hip, turned and began ambling down the road further. Henry's mother turned back towards the house taking long purposeful strides.

            Arriving back at the steps Henry’s mother spoke quickly. “Let's go to the hunting blind, we can see if there are berries to pick.”

Picking up a small paper bundle of bread and cheese carefully tied up she handed it to Henry. She then picked up a rolled and tied quilt. Grabbing Henry's hand she began to lead him to the woods behind the house.

“But shouldn’t we wait for father.” Henry protested.

“He will be along.” She said pulling Henry as she walked.

“We didn’t put the chickens in the coop.” Henry tried to turn back towards the chicken coop.

“Do as I tell you Henry.” She said forcefully strengthening her grip on his hand.

They slipped into the woods walking in silence for a while. The sun shown through the leaves of the forest illuminating their path. It was late afternoon and they never went that late to pick berries. Small puffs of black smoke blew above the trees.

“Where is the smoke coming from?” Henry asked accusingly.

“Mr. Phelps said there were men at the Hendersons farm, there was probably a fire. That’s why father had to go.”

“Why did father bring his rifle then?” Henry asked nervously.

His mother fell silent. Picking up her pace she tugged on Henry encouraging him to walk faster.

Several long minutes passed before his mother spoke again. “I bet the berries are now perfectly ripe. Big juicy sweet raspberries, and blackberries. Doesn’t that sound nice?”

 

Many seasons had passed, Henry had grown from a boy to a young man. His mother had gotten slower and gray showed in her hair. Henry now tended to the farm and took care of his mother as best as he could.

A late autumn breeze blew through the forest, shaking the frail leaves. Some of the leaves lost their grip falling to the ground where they would decay and feed future generations of trees. Henry stood a log on end, raising an axe he dropped it splitting the log in two. He bent down and stood one of the halves back up. Henry raised the axe again and it came down upon the wood.

“Henry!” called a voice from the road.

Henry looked up to see Joeseph, the miller's boy standing on the road.

“Captain Preston has called for us to muster on the town green.” Joeseph shouted.

“Aye?” Henrey said questioningly.

“There is trouble with men from Northton.” Joeseph turned and began to run down the road further.

“Wait what happened?” Henry called back.

“I don’t know I was told to get the men together.” Joeseph responded, shouting over his shoulder as he left.

Henry lay the axe down against the chopping block. Turning to the house he quickly strode in. Grabbing his emerald frock coat he swung it on.

Henry’s mother looked at him with alarm. “What's going on?”

 “I have to go to the town green.” Henry said grabbing his rifle from above the fireplace mantle.

“Oh no.” Henry's mother said starting to step towards the door. “But the stew is almost done.” She pled.

“Captain Preston is mustering the men I have to go.” He adamantly said.

Blocking the door his mother looked at him sadness in her eyes. Henry walked up to her looking down at her frail frame he hugged her and moved her aside all in one motion.

“It’ll be alright.” He said

As he let go of her she whispered on the verge of tears. “Please.”

Steping through the doorway. Henry looked back at his mother. “I’ll come back. I promise.”

On the town green Henry stood in line with the men of the town. Their sharp emerald coats and resolute faces looked forward. Captain Preston paced infront of them, his face red showing his vibrant emotion.

“Remember what they did to us, remember our fathers, our brothers, our sons. They lay in the cold earth now. They destroyed so much of ours, and now this…!” He threw his arms up into the air exasperated.

Henry felt bitter anger welling up in his stomach. He clenched his teeth as he thought back and remembered. A wave of vicious animosity came over him.

Captain Preston led the men out of the town marching in the dusk light toward Northton. The column moved as one with intent purpose. The birds were quiet almost as if they could feel the thoughts of the men.

The dusk light was fading as the column moved within sight of Northton. Tufts of smoke came up from the chimneys of the town preparing for night. The Northton church bell began to ring as they neared their target. Half dressed figures, wearing unbuttoned coats emerged from the homes and started to fill the town green.

“Double quick march!” Came Prestons orders. The colum began to jog into the town. “Colum left march!” the colum turned to face those opposing them on the green.

Henry looked on as the men of Northton desperately thrust their ramrods down their rifle barrels.

“Make ready!” Preston shouted as a few Northton stragglers came onto the green.

“Take aim!” a shiver ran through Henry as the moment he had long imagined was upon him.

With a truly mad grin, Captain Preston bellowed. “Fire!”

Smoke and flame burst from their rifles illuminating the line of emerald men. Henry saw as the hated men of Northton began to fall. They exchanged volleys and Henry lost count of how many times he had fired. Few men from Northton were still standing. Those that remained began to run towards their homes or the forest. Shouts of jubilation came from the emerald line.

“Lets burn it!” someone shouted to great cheers.

Again Henry brought up his rifle and levelled it upon a man older than himself, he imagined the man was about how old his own father would have been. He fired and watched the man fall. Suddenly a young boy came running from a house, dropping to his knees beside the man Henry had shot. Henry froze staring at the young boy. A girl ran up to the boy and Henry supposed it was the boys older sister. She dragged the boy kicking and screaming towards the forest on the outskirts of the town. Henry and the boy locked eyes. Suddenly all the hate in Henry was gone. He felt a sadness like he had never before. In the eyes of the boy Henry saw the emotion that had so drastically shaped him when he was young.

Henry felt a burning pain tear through his torso. Looking down he saw a red blotch spreading across his emerald coat. He wavered, his legs becoming weak. Henry fell to the ground, his vision becoming dim as the sounds became distant. He watched unable to move as the boy and girl disappeared into the woods. He felt such regret, he thought of his father, and of his mother. Until he was so tired, his eyes were heavy and he let them fall shut.                      

Reviews

[Kelly Kepler]

I like this. I like the title and the theme. Vengeance, revenge, spite and anger rarely end well. Even if things are justified, they rarely end well.

Your beginning is good. It sets the mood and so clearly ties into the end. Once he is older reality comes into play and you portray it well, with his his mom and the stew and the gun on the mantle.

The shooting is what men do. Duty and patriotism and justice are powerful forces. Then when you have the boy and the girl run out reality hits home.

This is good. This is profound. Thank you.