*** in the Dark
An Ending of Such.
His eyes were half closed when the door opened finally, he saw a man entering. He was dragging something behind him and Justin knew that it was Jordan. He slammed his eyes shut; that wasn’t the last thing he wanted to see.
Backed up against the back corner there was no chance of escape. They were going to die and no one would ever know what had happened to them.
“Caused quite a commotion, didn’t you?” the figure asked, “you’re friends were easier. I must say though, following the light, it wasn’t very smart. But you now that already, don’t you?” The voice was that of a man, a twisted, sick man. “This knife has done me good over the years,” he continued, “got me my dinner a few times to.”
Justin shuddered and opened his eyes. If he was going to die, he was going to see the man who killed him. He looked almost thirty, with long brown hair. He hadn’t shaved in years, or so it seemed.
“I’m tired of games, lets get this over with, shall we?” the man said.
“Who-who- who are you?” Justin managed to ask.
“Me?” he sneered, “I guess it won’t hurt in you knowing. You’ll be gone soon after all. I am the man with no name. Some call me ‘the darkness’ or so I’d like them to. But none of them know of my real name. The one I was born with, I left it years ago you see. Too many bad memories and such. My real name is… Max. Why, it’s getting late and we’re getting off topic. Don’t worry though; this will be quick. I’m just going to slice your throat. It doesn’t hurt… much.”
Justin was done with fighting, running, fleeing. Maybe Aisling will get out in the end, he thought.
The man called Max pulled the knife from his pocket and wiped the blood on his sleeve. Justin tried to sit up; he wanted to die with his head held high.
He was advancing now, getting closer. He had a gleam in his eye, like he was enjoying some sport. “Once slice,” Max was saying, “just one, it won’t hurt,” but before he could get any closer. His eyes had rolled back in their sockets, the knife was falling from his hand’s grip and he was coughing, blood was spurting form his mouth as he fell to the ground in a pool of it. And this time, it was his own. Above him, Justin could see the figure of and eight year old girl holding a butcher’s knife. She was pale white and covered in blood, but she was safe and now, so was he.
Backed up against the back corner there was no chance of escape. They were going to die and no one would ever know what had happened to them.
“Caused quite a commotion, didn’t you?” the figure asked, “you’re friends were easier. I must say though, following the light, it wasn’t very smart. But you now that already, don’t you?” The voice was that of a man, a twisted, sick man. “This knife has done me good over the years,” he continued, “got me my dinner a few times to.”
Justin shuddered and opened his eyes. If he was going to die, he was going to see the man who killed him. He looked almost thirty, with long brown hair. He hadn’t shaved in years, or so it seemed.
“I’m tired of games, lets get this over with, shall we?” the man said.
“Who-who- who are you?” Justin managed to ask.
“Me?” he sneered, “I guess it won’t hurt in you knowing. You’ll be gone soon after all. I am the man with no name. Some call me ‘the darkness’ or so I’d like them to. But none of them know of my real name. The one I was born with, I left it years ago you see. Too many bad memories and such. My real name is… Max. Why, it’s getting late and we’re getting off topic. Don’t worry though; this will be quick. I’m just going to slice your throat. It doesn’t hurt… much.”
Justin was done with fighting, running, fleeing. Maybe Aisling will get out in the end, he thought.
The man called Max pulled the knife from his pocket and wiped the blood on his sleeve. Justin tried to sit up; he wanted to die with his head held high.
He was advancing now, getting closer. He had a gleam in his eye, like he was enjoying some sport. “Once slice,” Max was saying, “just one, it won’t hurt,” but before he could get any closer. His eyes had rolled back in their sockets, the knife was falling from his hand’s grip and he was coughing, blood was spurting form his mouth as he fell to the ground in a pool of it. And this time, it was his own. Above him, Justin could see the figure of and eight year old girl holding a butcher’s knife. She was pale white and covered in blood, but she was safe and now, so was he.