Fierce

• Ethan Widjaja, Grade 6, Aquinas College -
• Short Story
• 2018

Excellence Award in the 'Write Along 2018' competition

He choked on his own sweat and blood gazing in disbelief, as the distorted figure came swaying towards him. That figure was an active Nazi supporter, and James was forced to realise that it was his long lost brother, Jacob. What Lieutenant Tark mentioned to him, during his time at Prison 7X was nothing but filthy words of hate. Jacob was no-one but a murderer, a killer, a dead man to him.

As James inhaled each time, he felt the sharp intake against his fractured ribs. Every small movement, poking at his arms with pain, then filling his legs with unceasing agony. Crawling, or lifting himself up was almost not an option, for his legs would simply buckle and falter under his weight. There was public outrage as riots demanding for the truth for the deaths that they mourned outside the city walls of Berlin. Many people either appeared dead in their houses or simply disappeared. Committed Nazis, had now started to form their own SS, carrying out Hitler’s true mission, not to wipe out the population of Jews, but to wipe out every trace of magic.

“So, you’re awake”, muttered Jacob, as he cursed under his breath, his slow, clumsy movements ceased when he fiddled for his blade. James understood, no chances were being taken here, next is just a slit to the throat. After the escapees from Prison 7X, he knew that the SS weren’t taking any more chances. James wasn’t going to face death, with an obnoxious face he managed a blissful smile. Instead of plunging his blade across the throat, Jacob smirked, before he broke the uneasy silence.
“So, I’m sure that your life is worth more valuable to you, than your country that’s under political unrest,” his voice trailing of in the distance of his mind, as he tried to formulate a plan. “This country’s isn’t worth anything more than what it previously was,” expressed the figure lurking around the shadows around him.
“All we’re trying to achieve is not a civil war, but just a reformed government... ,” he stopped as James Sullivan looked strangely at his long-forgotten brother and with a slight nod, he spat at Jacob’s feet.

“This is what I care about your stupid ideas for government!” Jacob exclaimed angrily, a string of curses, using his anger to bring the ugly fashioned blade down upon his brother. James raised his fists and mumbling. He stared at Jacob, as the blade curled in Jacob’s fingers tightly, before collapsing as Jacob’s body ripped apart in flesh. The room exploded with stunning light, which engulfed everyone’s senses. The world shook uncontrollably, as the light faltered and shattered.

Dismembered parts were everywhere, blood splattered upon the room as Jacob’s clean skull halted in a deep scorch mark at the feet of the newcomer. A giant of mankind, his hands extended, with pulsing red veins decorating his palm, he lowered them and with a slight bow, “Fierce at your service, once again Commandant Sullivan.”