Mr Black

• Lachlan Ge, Grade 5
• Short Story
• 2021

Mercy.
Pity.
Peace.
Love.

Ahh. What can I say? How succulent they seem to those susceptible enough. But yet, their true meaning lies beneath perceivability. They may not be the goodness legend has them.

For where is mercy, where is pity without wrath and envy? What is peace without conflict? What is love, without hatred? And this is my story.

It was on a particular Sunday evening, that I had sauntered into that town bursting with affluence. I had never seen such lavish buildings and gold-speckled breaths. Maybe it was because of how poverty-stricken I was that envy got the better of me. Just maybe such destruction could never have happened.

The moment that viridescent mist spewed in the air was when I saw that alabaster mansion, bespeckled with grandiose gardens and enormous water features. First I was beguiled. Then, irritated. And then, furious. And so, out of my pocket, I slipped out a small red box.

“Life isn’t fair,” I hollered between bouts of hitched breath as I broke the window and set fire to the carpeted floor. Yes, it wasn’t fair. How dare the rich live their ivory towers, lavishing and squandering while we, the poor, jump from one monkey bar to another, but still could barely make it above subsistence.

The building quickly set on fire, the serpents’ tongues of flame enshrouded the mansion, their waltzing masses the antsy gargoyles. A sly baleful smile upturned on my lips.

“Call me Mr Black,” I yelled vindictively as the building reduced to ashes. I looked down with disdain at what remained. Stygian. Dull. Black.

And it was that day that I was shackled and thrown into jail.

But now, I do not wear peace as a dress, nor leave my heart on my sleeve.

No, and now that I have been released, I am free to wreak havoc upon the rich.

And my eyes are brimming with not mercy, pity, peace and love, but burning with greed, envy, wrath, and hatred.