The cold steel blade felt at home in his hands. When it plunged into the depths of human body, it came out plucking more than blood and bone. It also ripped of the life within that shell, with the ease of picking a flower. But was that all? Didn’t it also take with it, a part of the yielder’s heart? The part where humanity thrives. The part that makes one human?
In a warrior’s mind these thoughts are taboo. But he was not born a warrior or a murderer. Everyone is born to this earth as a bundle of joy. It is life that makes scars too deep for healing, and a mind prepared to do all it takes to fulfill the primal instinct within. The instinct to survive.
But the problem is when one starts enjoying the process. And as he stood there awaiting his target, his heart beat a bit faster and his mouth started to dry. Adrenalin pumped into his body like an intoxicating drug. This was his peak. This was his life’s prime moment. When he felt that he was more than a bug which could be trodden on by all around him. To feel alive he had to hold within his hand the power of life. If God could give life and he could take it away, doesn’t that make him God?
It had started raining, but he barely noticed it. The wait was when he truly lived. He had to savor these moments for they were precious few. Rain dripped down his coat and crept into his boots. He hastily swept his long hair from his eyes. His wait was ending, and his moment was approaching.
He stepped out of his alley and walked toward the man who was fast approaching him. He was young, and from what he could make out, handsome and rich. As the gap closed fast, the young man’s eyes rose to meet his end. Something flashed in those black depths, a mute understanding. In the second that separated the blade and his chest, he must have known that his end was at hand. In the next moment the blade hit home and warm blood flowed free from the open wound. His eyes met the victims and he felt the same pain in his guts. Like a piece of his soul had died with his prey. But this time the pain was deeper than ever. Did this young man remind him of his early days? Emotions had no place in a killer’s heart. Then why was this pain betraying his heart.
He turned and ran before the prey hit ground. He knew fully well that the rain would wash the blood fast from his clothes. He ran for some time but the pain was not gone. He stopped for a breath but his body would not go on. He sank to the ground and watched blood flow from his clothes.
The blood flowed and flowed but it didn’t stop. All the while his pain grew more and more. So he slowly removed his loose coat and stared blankly at the silver hilt of a dagger poking from his chest. He looked to the sky and saw a lonely star. Rain washed off a single tear from his face. As his world grew dark and emptiness closed around, he was half smiling and half amazed. That angels were vengeful he had long suspected. But the swiftness of their deeds amazed him still.
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