Caged

Eyes curious and mischievous, he wandered back down the path on which he had confronted the two young boys—though he wasn’t sure the smaller one had been a boy at all.
And it was the oddity of the younger boy that was precisely what he would use to his benefit. He didn’t remember much about the couple—only that the one he’d been about to execute had said something about his guitar. He hadn’t seen the instrument, but he was positive that it was still there. He was positive that the duo had fled as soon as he had. Why wouldn’t they have?

As his worn sneakers scuffed against the paved road, he searched the area for the instrument that the spike-haired boy had referred to.

He realized that he shouldn’t have fled—he understood now that there was probably nothing that the winged one could’ve done to hurt him. He should’ve stayed, should’ve already fulfilled what he was seeking out now.

Morning was approaching; the sky was lightening, and the swallows and gulls were beginning to create their routine chorus of dawn. The strong-minded man knew this, and it made him anxious. The last thing he needed was to be caught in the neighborhood and questioned of his motives by a stranger, or even the two boys, should the older have come in search of his instrument.

However, as those curious eyes of his fell upon the two pieces of that instrument, lying broken in the center of the road, a sinister smile splayed itself on his face.

With few more scuffs of his sneakers, he knelt before the broken guitar, carefully taking the separated neck and body into his gloved hands. Being careful not to lose grip on the pieces as he stood, the ruthless man stood and turned back in the direction of his car, parked just around the corner.

As he began his stride again, though, he was met by the face of that stranger he had thought over earlier; in any case, this face was friendly—nonthreatening.

Before him stood the face of a woman, smiling as she extracted the left bud of her iPod’s headset from her ear. She appeared to be jogging; a normal sort of thing for an early Saturday morning. “Odd thing to find in the middle of the road at 7:30 in the morning, isn’t it?” she spoke softly.

He felt as though he could have lashed out on her just as he had the young couple hours ago. However, he knew that if his plan were to work, then he couldn’t dare chance an attempt at that. So, instead of following his instincts, he adorned a faked, friendly smile, and shook his head.

“My friends and I were practicing last night—I’m in a band.” he thought up quickly, on the spot as he shook his head. “It must have fallen from the trunk of my car, where all of my equipment was at the time—I got home and the hatch was open. Sa’shame that it got broken like this…”

As he spoke, the woman nodded. “Ah. Yes, that is a shame. Hopefully you have a warranty on the poor thing.” she smiled gently.

He knew that his faux smile wasn’t going to last more than another minute. This woman needed to leave him alone, he thought, as the very same gun he’d held to the brown eyed boy’s cheek itched to be extracted from the waistband of his jeans.

“Sure do.” he spoke through clenched teeth. “Well, I’d better go. I have to go and get ready to take this thing to the shop...”

This time, he received nothing more than a mere nod from the friendly woman, as she replaced her ear bud and jogged off, unmoved.

Rolling his eyes, the man continued his walk toward the car he had returned to the narrow road in, the plot surging through his mind placing a smile on his face that contained the slightest tinge of giddiness.