Blood on the Streets

Prologue.

 It was a crimson sunset that night. He didn't have an idea of why he remembered that exactly, but he remembered the sunset was a dark, dark red. Almost like blood... Funny the sun was blood red that night. Created just for another ironic laugh of fate. He frowned then, a sharp emotional wave overthrowing his mind and his chest constricting in reaction. He could still remember the immediate shock his body went into... And the feeling of utter failure enshrouding his mind. The memory was so extremely precise though... He could still see it.

~

He was glaring into dark brown eyes, the owner giving him a similar expression in return. The rain pattered softly onto the sidewalk they stood on. It was a dank, chilly night but neither friend nor foe seemed to notice- or care for that matter. Every second that ticked on their watches increased the mutal tension- and both parties were waiting for the other to make a move. 

Finally, one did. A youth on the opposite side of him moved as if to charge and to run in the opposite direction at the same time. For a moment, he examined the kid. Brown hair, dark eyes, the color escaping in that dreary night- he could be no older than eleven or twelve; what in Heaven's name was he doing here?

"Daniel, don't move." An older teen to the right of the boy snapped harshly.

Glancing up, he was faced with the same dark eyes that had been glaring in return a moment ago. "Family," he muttered stupidly. Of course that was why the kid was here. He took a steadying breath, careful not to let anyone else see. Truthfully, he knew that the odds of winning tonight were steep- but the odds of surviving tonight was even steeper. He looked at the person standing beside him, noting the anger deeply implanting in his eyes. One word, one utter could release the massacre tonight. His companion was standing on the edge of breaking out into chaotic rage; he stood not very far behind. 

At once the serenity was broken- shattered, like the silence was by thunder's cry, and the battle was unleashed. He fought as hard as he could, at once knowing this would be the hardest he would ever battle- and he knew he would battle much more in the future. His vision became unsurpassable. Yet he heard no sound, nor felt no touch- but he saw all of it too well. He saw the last escaping cries of those falling, wounded, and eternally damned. He saw the slamming, the connection between human and human and human and wall. But he never saw what was the most important to him.

Until it was all too late. 

He stood, gasping, leaning upon a wall with his arms tucked around his chest. He was sore, bleeding, and barely comprehending but alive. Unlike all those who lie, surrounded in their own crimson darkness. At first his eyes scanned the bodies in a relaxed gaze, then looked up, expecting to find his companion standing somewhere, doing as he was. But there was none standing and no signs. Once again his eyes darted over the massacred flesh, the dark regret of fighting in his heart. 

It was when he thought he could see no more death when he noticed the elevation of one body. In the midst of all others, lying on the stomach, it was higher than all others. The comprehension struck as the lightning illuminated the area even more- and he pushed his way through the slain to the center. 

Normally he would have respected the lost and treated them like he respected them but the body was in his way. He unceremoniously kicked it off balance and it went tumbling over, falling somewhere to the side. He never saw it though. His stomach convulsed angrily at the site of what lie under that body. After ridding himself of whatever contents his stomach had on the side to the next body, he turned back to view what he didn't want to see. 

His companion lie motionless, chest and shirt ripped wide with blood streaming out still. He leaned in, tears blurring his vision and laid his hand on the boy's stomach for support. Warmth... It was fading yet it was there. Obviously freshly dead. Suddenly he couldn't take much more. He ran- crunching over bones and organs- but it didn't matter. As soon as he left the bodies, he ran towards the nearest alley, where he stopped. Leaning his forehead against the wall, he convulsed, stomach sending the dry heaves upon him. But what was more, the tears fell harder with each lurch. Each time he tried to stop, the memory implanted itself deeper into his mind and he cried harder. 

He finally fell to his knees, weakly unable to stand anymore. And after a few more moments, he stopped heaving, but his body continued shaking. Wrapping his arms around his chest for comfort, he gently began rocking himself. One chronic thought never left his mind though- he had failed. He had failed in keeping his companion alive- his friend- his own brother! Looking up, his eyes were darkening, his body now stopped shaking from shock and began shaking in rage, he vowed then to never forget this night- even though he wanted to and along with that he would never let anyone close to him down again. 

Standing, he glancing into the night sky, imprinting it on his memory. This was the night that would make him change. It was the night that the darkness was splashed with crimson. The night that blood seeped onto the streets.

Reviews

[nicknye]

I think I followed your story, but am not sure. I get the impression that this is a post fight scene, but I'm not sure where it is or whose side the protagonist is on - or his foes. (maybe I missed a chapter or something)

Here are a few spots that you may wish to reconsider:

noting the anger deeply implanting in his eyes -implanting? not sure what you mean by this and the tense needs to change

One word, one utter could release the massacre tonight - one utterance not utter

like the silence was by thunder's cry - not sure what 'by thunder's cry' means

angrily at the site of what lie under that body - change site to sight

I liked the intro, but you need to provide me with some more information on this fight or battle