Vengeance Strikes...

• Karan Rana, Grade 8
• Short Story
• 2019

In the crowd, a swift, shadowy figure moved silently like a leopard ready to pounce on its prey. His eyes are thirsty for the blood of its victim. Max’s psychotic mind had a heart of its own controlling him by changing his soul into a vengeful killer. He had a sly, malicious grin on his face. He hunted his prey into a dark long alley, with a musty scent reminding him of his dreadful past...

I cast myself back to my imprisonment, It had that same musty smell and all you could feel were the cold, damp walls. There was pin-drop silence and darkness overcame the room, I was suffering from starvation. I was all bone and didn’t have the strength to pluck the petals off a flower. I was rescued by men who had blue clothes. When they found me, I was laughing maniacally. After that my memory was a blur. After I stumbled into the police station and started to hunt down those who were responsible for my imprisonment and I sought revenge.

Max laughed hysterically catching the attention of his scapegoat. The man had a badge stitched onto his dirty green uniform with Caleb embedded into it. Rain drizzled onto the ground and the thunder crackled as Max took out his knife. He ran at Caleb and plunged onto him; stabbing him. The man screamed in agony and in a feeble attempt he tried to escape but it was in vain as it resulted in him pounding his face onto the white sidewall. This time Max stabbed him again and a large thud could be heard all across the neighbourhood. Blood oozed out of the lifeless body. That was the night where the grey ground was painted red. Max put his pale, bony finger on the side of the neck of his victim to check if he was dead. After being assured, Max took out a piece of paper and crossed out a name.

It was described as a massacre striking fear to the hearts to those who layed eyes on the crime scene. It was described as brutal by the reports on the news as Max watched the television in his green chair. The tv looked like it hadn’t been used in years because of the layer of dust and the atmosphere in the room would be enough for someone to choke on the air. Max then got up headed towards a mouldy cupboard, only to take out a knife which shimmered as the sun glared at it. On Max’s face was a smile, a smile that would make the bravest and boldest tremble. He stared at the shimmering knife and was distracted by the gusting wind, which rattled the windows making an unbearable clatter.

Max sauntered towards the window, his maniacal mind boiled a new recipe something so destructive and so malicious that the most wicked would bow down in disgrace. A reservoir had caught Max’s attention, the water glistened like his knife.

“The Water and the Knife aren’t the same but both can kill painfully slow,'' he whispered to himself.

Max walked out of the house in search of something lethal…