Status: working
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One
My father told me never to take a life I wasn't willing to give back. He was taking one night when I was twelve. I had become one of those kids; who's parents were taking by the night. Never to be seen again; never to hold them never to say "good night", nor "I love you".
The Children of the Night, they called us. For we sit there and wait by the door, all night. Only to find, no one will walk through it that night, nor any night after that. My mother always tried to to pull me away; to make me forget my father. She knew what happened. Turned the blind eye when I asked her. For years I waited for him to walk home at night; for my mother to tell me the truth. For something, anything.
By the time I had turned fifteen, I stopped waiting by the door.Stopped trying to get my mother to talk to me. I watched my sister grow up without a father; without any memory of him nor the night he was taken. The memories that haunt me at night, out of fear that they may come for me.
I can still hear the pounding that called us to the door that night. What they thought was a friendly visit, turned into a misunderstanding, soon shouting, brawling, ending with my mother screaming, and my father bloody on the floor.
"It's okay," He told us; my mother and I. His last words to us, possibly his last words all together."Never take the life, you wouldn't give back."
I remembered those words, when I shot my mother. It wasn't like you think.She betrayed us, sold us out. She caused my fathers arrest, and eventually his death. If I hadn't shot her, she was going to kill not me, but my sister as well as others. My mother had become one of them, so much so that she was ready to give up her family.
After that, I was no longer a Child of the Night, but something else completely. And soon, they came for me, as they did my father years before. I couldn't do that. My sister under the watch of my grandmother, father gone and mother dead, I ran. Far from this corrupt world of the 24Th century.
The Children of the Night, they called us. For we sit there and wait by the door, all night. Only to find, no one will walk through it that night, nor any night after that. My mother always tried to to pull me away; to make me forget my father. She knew what happened. Turned the blind eye when I asked her. For years I waited for him to walk home at night; for my mother to tell me the truth. For something, anything.
By the time I had turned fifteen, I stopped waiting by the door.Stopped trying to get my mother to talk to me. I watched my sister grow up without a father; without any memory of him nor the night he was taken. The memories that haunt me at night, out of fear that they may come for me.
I can still hear the pounding that called us to the door that night. What they thought was a friendly visit, turned into a misunderstanding, soon shouting, brawling, ending with my mother screaming, and my father bloody on the floor.
"It's okay," He told us; my mother and I. His last words to us, possibly his last words all together."Never take the life, you wouldn't give back."
I remembered those words, when I shot my mother. It wasn't like you think.She betrayed us, sold us out. She caused my fathers arrest, and eventually his death. If I hadn't shot her, she was going to kill not me, but my sister as well as others. My mother had become one of them, so much so that she was ready to give up her family.
After that, I was no longer a Child of the Night, but something else completely. And soon, they came for me, as they did my father years before. I couldn't do that. My sister under the watch of my grandmother, father gone and mother dead, I ran. Far from this corrupt world of the 24Th century.