Bloody Moonlight

 A cold night had now claimed the canvas of sky that stretched above the city. Painted black, darkness washed over the many streets and alleys. A soft glow emitted from a small diner, slaying a small portion of the darkness. From inside the diner, in a booth in a corner away from the few people who still remained in their given seat. He was quiet, his expression somber…a look of deep sadness engraved deep within his eyes. Deep in thought he studied the lamp that hung over the next table, subconsciously admiring the soft golden glow that overflowed onto the cold dark red surface like imaginary water. He planned, quietly of course, of what would unfold later in the night.

After several hours, near the diner’s final hours, he stood and silently made his way out, the only evidence he left of his departure was the low “ting” of the bell that hung near the door. As he stepped out onto the gray hard concrete, a stinging wind raced down the streets picking up any stray newspaper pieces or abandon candy wrappers and slinging them mercilessly down the empty streets. It didn’t bother him though, he merely continued to walk, his jacket undisturbed by the black gloved hands burrowed deep within the denim pockets of his jeans. Though he may have seemed to be within society’s definition of normal, he was far from it. He was one of those rejected few who peered down every passing alley with their hearts lodged in their throats out of fear. One of the few who were silent but always carried the most dangerous of weapons. This one, particularly, was obsessively paranoid always on his guard…always aware of his surroundings and the ghost of the horrors that blended hauntingly in with the darkness. But he, he was one of the worst he was one who fought restlessly with his own mind. Aside from the mental exhaustion from the constant war within him, there was also the physical exhaustion from dodging the unexpected objects his brother nightly threw at him. Maybe this was the reason for his “psychiatric problems”. Why would he stay with some one like this? Still he continued on his “voyage” to the disgusting apartment of his 23 year old brother. In the safety of his dark brown trench coat, his gloved fingertips gingerly slid along the handle of the machete that hung at his hip. “To, again, answer these questions.” He whispered, his voice resembling the wind‘s softest whispers. It was about two years ago, his mother and father had been out late probably one of those ridiculous parties his father always had to attend just to make a business deal. His mother hated going, she always said it was just an act of pure laziness on the buyer’s part. But, then again, his father was very good about getting the “target” so drunk he hardly remembered his own kids’ names before making his “proposal“. The police report claimed a tragic car accident had taken the lives of his parents, but some how, he knew this was a lie. A wonderfully disguised murder had taken place, so perfectly planned that not even the best of detectives could’ve seen it. His bother had moved out of the house for about five or six years but, out of respect to his parents, would go and keep him company while they were away. After their deaths, his brother was the only family he had and thus was granted sole custody of him.

People said after loosing their parents that his brother had changed. Became ill tempered, violent, and angry most of the time, but they all believed it would pass. It didn’t. Towards his friends, he could put on an amusing show and managed to battle the anger and violent outbursts, but the moment he walked through the door it was fiercely released on any and everything. He was his brother’s favorite target. A living, breathing, moving target to perfect his accuracy. Any object suited his fancy; knives, glass, plastic, tables, lamps…whatever was handy. Though he hated staying here, in his brother’s house, it was the only place he had to go. But tonight everything would change….

It had been a nice (a little less alarming than usual) walk back to his place and judging by the darkened windows, his brother had yet to come home. Which was good. Standing in front of the steps that climbed to the locked door, he smiled with great anticipation. His heart skipping beats with each step taken closer to the door. As he reached into his pocket to find the key to the dungeon, his hands began to softly shake as his fingertips brushed against the small cold surface of the key.

Unlocking the door was a rather amusing task. By now, his heart pounded and his hands shook hard as he searched the key and the lock until the key fitted into place and he entered the darkness of the house. As he removed the oversized blade from his hip and sat down on the couch, he had originally planned to give his “beloved” brother a taste of his own medicine…but his plans suddenly changed as silver moonlight came through the window, causing his machete to shine in a sharp almost angelic glow. His smile broadened as his plans unfolded into a more painful death for his tormentor.

As quiet as the softest spring breeze he stood and attached the large blade to his hip once more and sat own in chair furthest from the door. His trench remained on so not to allow his brother to become too suspicious of him. Just as he had thought, as one A.M rolled around his brother climbed the three small steps and opened the door. “What are you still doing up? Don’t you have school tomorrow?” He asked in a drunken slur as he slammed the door behind him. “No.” Came his foot answer,” I graduated two months ago…remember?” A snort of increasing agitation came from his brother. “Then why not make yourself useful and get a job?” He snapped. “I’m looking.” Was his answer. With a twisted expression of both anger and hate, his brother picked up a small candle holder and threw it across the room, straight for his head. Tonight was different though. He lifted his hand, allowing the glass to collide into the open palm. “This was mom’s.” He said as he momentarily examined the small glass object, a small hint of anger playing in his eyes. “Have you no respect for her?” An almost eternal silence was broken at this moment as he stood to his feet, placing the candle holder down on a coffee table next to him. “Have you no respect for the dead!” This was the first time since his childhood that he had raised his voice to anyone and the first time in his life it had been out of anger.

It had been a reaction, something he didn’t remember until after he had acted. But he didn’t allow the burning blaze of anger that consumed his dark eyes to be softened by this realization. This expression, he never washed it away as he looked back into the face of rage in his own brother’s eyes. “Have you ever heard of respecting your elders?” His voice was alarmingly calm, but his advancement was slow and precise…his brother was the predator…and he was the prey…for now.” Of course.” His voice was flat as well as mocking. “Then start respecting me!” He yelled, tackling him onto the nearby couch. His brother smiled in victory as he looked down at him, “yer never gonna to be big enough to stop me. And you’ll always here for me to do my bidding. Whatever that may be.” Several minutes of deafening silence filled the apartment, but the fight continued to rage in the eyes of the two brothers. “There, my brother, you’re WRONG!” Without a moment’s notice, his brother flew half way across the room and slammed into a large grandfather clock near the hallway entrance. As the other regained his posture, he stood to his feet and temporarily, looked down at him. “You’re a fool!” Came his brother’s echoing bellow as he rushed at him for a second time.

The next few hours he really didn’t remember all he knew was his body’s pain and the rough scratching of his throat as he screamed. They say that a person can only handle so much before they break. This was his breaking. He remembered the screaming, the yelling, like sharp sensations of a hazy head ache burning in the back of his mind.

When his memory returned to him, his back was being slammed hard against the door. So hard, the door snapped opened and the two stumbled and toppled down the three steps and came crashing down onto the cold concrete sidewalk. Sometime during the ten seconds between the collision with the door and the sidewalk, his blade had silently slipped through the denim leg of his jeans and dug deep into his warm flesh. He softy laughed in what would be made out to be pleasure when he felt the pain of the large knife and the strangely warm blood acting as a sort of glue keeping the sliced material stuck to his bleeding wound.

His brother lay pinned beneath him, it was now that he showed any sign of noticing him. His eyes moved from his wound to the face of his brother. Many emotions mingled together in his eyes. “What‘s the matter, brother?” He asked mockingly. “Are you afraid?” He was enjoying this all too much so, as always, his brother made a failed attempt to rain on his parade. “You’re still nothin’ but a kid tryin’ to play the tough guy. It would be easier on me and much less painful for you if you just get up and go back inside. No need to make a scene.” Hs voice was calm, but his eyes were wild with an unknown fear. “No, no, no…that won’t do.” Came his response as he jerked the oversized blade out of his leg. A muffled laugh finding its way past his throat and into the cold night air as the pain traveled up his body. Still, his brother remained ignorant of the blade and only looked back at him with a bewildered expression. “It’s been a wonderful two years, hasn’t it?” Falsely joyous and sarcastic words lifted to the elder’s ear. This broke his perfectly molded composure. “Wha…what are you up to?“ He confusingly questioned his fear only faintly being detectable. By now, blood ran into a small pool beside the wounded limb, but with steady hands he smoothly drew the tainted blade from its place on his hip and allowed the moonlight to reflect off it with radiant silver beams.

It was now that his brother understood his unspoken intentions which caused him to laugh and look into his brother’s eyes. “Ya think yer man enough? Go ahead…” He smiled with confident he had won this battle and awaited his brother to lift himself off him and discard the weapon, but he was very wrong. “Oh believe me.” He replied in an almost demonic voice, “your last breaths are drawing nearer and nearer with every passing moment.” Still, his brother did not believe him and only smiled up at him. “Let me demonstrate how you will die.” With this he said he slowly raised the blade above his head, and with a smile, quickly brought it down but stopped only an inch away from his throat. “Won’t it be beautiful?” He questioned with a sadistic smile, “To see your decapitated body bleeding profusely onto the cold gray stone?…Indeed it will.” His brother only looked at him. “Heh…you wouldn’t kill yer own brother would ya?” He questioned. He smirked. “Absolutely.” Was his simple answer. Again the blade rose above his head, but he lowered his arm and leaned in to where his lips were close to his brother’s ear. “You can’t play the victim this time.” He whispered. His smirk widened into a joyful smile as the blade rose above his head for the last time and in a mater of seconds; the head of his brother lay a ways from his body as blood quickly began to spew from his open throat. It was now; he gazed into his brother’s dead eyes, wide with shock and filled with fear. He stood and wiped the bloody weapon off on the shirt of the corpse until its silver steel gracefully glimmered underneath the street light. He watched, for a moment, as the blood continued to seep onto the sidewalk and onto the edges of the paved street.

“Red is a better suiting color for the sidewalk…blood red…” he thought as he began walking in the opposite direction of his brother’s body. Away from the Hell he had lived and forward…to wherever his sin may take him.

Author's Note

I was reading over this and saw just how many mistakes there were, so I decided to edit lol.

Reviews

[Rebecca Rogers]

I think the dialogue needs to be separated from the paragraphs first of all. Second, you need to run this through some sort of grammar check. There are a lot of misspelled words. Maybe you could also make it a little more clear as to why the brothers want to kill each other.

I will say, however, that your details are great!! :)