Revenge Is Bittersweet

• Madiyar Snazell, Grade 8
• Short Story
• 2009

An icy midnight wind twirled below a layer of dark clouds, carrying the scent of Johnny Morano’s target. He had knelt on one knee and was examining a trail of footprints leading into the murky darkness of the forest when a familiar smell hit him. He laughed to himself at how effortless it was to find his victim.
Ahh, there you are Uncle. He thought smirking.
Without any more hesitation, he took off into the woods. Considerably faster than an average human, he was soon a mere twenty feet behind a rather short, plump man. The man was dressed in a torn overcoat which covered the remains of his Ermenegildo Zegna suit. His face became pale as he saw his attacker approach.
“Please Johnny, have mercy!” he cried out, but he knew his pleas fell on deaf ears.
Johnny took out his 9mm Beretta.
“Hmm, I do have a gun,” Johnny said, and holding the pistol in one hand he drew out a knife with the other. “And this incredibly dangerous-looking knife, but sorry, seems I’m out of mercy tonight, Uncle Deuce!”
“Your mother wouldn’t have wanted this, Johnny!” His uncle screamed to him.
Images of revenge flashed across his mind at the sound of his late mother’s name. He sought to rip, tear the man in front of him.
How dare he speak of her?!
This pause was enough for his target to scrape another thirty feet between them. Angry at his own foolishness, he let reality roll back into picture. He searched for his uncle in the trees and saw the tail of a coat disappear into a clearing.
Aiming the gun at where he thought his uncle would be, he fired several shots and heard a wince. Johnny dashed into the clearing.
“And this, is what it all comes down to!” yelled Johnny, wearing a big smirk which reflected the madness behind his handsome face.
His uncle lay sprawled in the middle of the clearing, clutching his leg which was bleeding profusely. His face was full of fear and sweat. He quickly backed away as he saw his nephew approach. Johnny’s charcoal hair swept across his face as the wind gently caressed the trees.
“You know,” Johnny said as he gazed calmly at the gun. “Mother didn’t have anyone to rely on after my dad mysteriously disappeared. But I realize now - he was a pothead, a junkie. And then you killed her so you could turn me into a hit-man, an assassin. Well, here we are-”
Johnny glared at his uncle.
“-And this time, the target is you, uncle.”
Several shots rang out in the woods, making birds and animals nearby scatter for safety.
“Oh, Uncle Deuce,” Johnny gazed into the blank space of his uncle’s eyes instead of the deep maroon he had grown up with. “Revenge on an after thought is bitter, yet it tastes oh-so-sweet.”
A single tear rolled down Johnny’s cheek as he realized the monster he had become.