marți, 10 iulie 2012

Archangels bring vengeance

Mmm. Buna seara. Bine, cat de buna poate fi, depinde de perspectiva din care privesti. Astazi m-am gandit ca e timpul sa mai scriu cateva cuvinte din propria-mi fictiune bolnava. Ultima a prins bine, asa ca, hai sa mai bag o fisa. Ma ajuta si starea de spirit in care sunt, ce-i drept, sa mearga cuvintele mai bine decat in mod normal. Dar despre asta alta data, cand o sa fie frig afara. :P

It was late during the evening. The birds and sparrows went to bed already, and the moon was ready to rise. The streets we're calm and peacefull and the air was tense, as if knowing what was going to ensue. It was like the Grim himself was walking the street, scaring all dogs and cats into their hiding. Between they gray and blurry buildings of the city only engines roared, and roared of blood they did. Three bikes roared down the street in a V shape. Licence plates removed and armors placed, the bikers schreeched the walkway. Suddenly, they see a group of people standing in front of a building drinking. They pull over and decide to wait. Helmets still on, only moved a bit to let a ciggarette cut the nerves of steel.

The hours passed, the seconds felt like ages untill most of the group left. One of the bikers clinched his fist and wispered "It's time" while patting the back of a bigger fellow. All six bikers went to the rides and picked up their weapons.. chains and bats and casually started walking across the street. Smiles under the helmets and a rush flooded their bloodstreams. Their hearts were pounding, but not with fear, but with the sweet sense of justice, of knowing that what will follow would be the right thing to do. One of the bigger ones let his hair flow from under the helmet and another one streched his gloves that we're padded with metal.

They reached the two remaning strangers that we're drinking in front of the building. The two looked dumbfounded when they saw the six armored bikers. One of them managed to mumble:
- What the fuck do you want clowns?
- This is the wretch? asked the pony tailed biker.
- Nope, the other one... grinned one of them.
- Mate, you should go, like, now. adviced the biggest one and waved the bat in front of the other one just inches from his face.

That moment all hell broke loose and demons started to flood to the gates. Not even the Cerberus was able to stop them now. The time flow slowed down with the grace of Chronos and the uninvited guest started running for his life. The mark tried to run in the building, but one of the bikers jumped and close the door in front of him, while the others pinned him to the ground. They turned him face up and let him stand there, on the ground for a moment. They looked at him and he looked at them. Fear was vivid in his eyes and tears we're running down his face...

- Not so strong now, eh? said one.
- Neah, not when the victim is fighting back... grinned another.
- Why? What's this all about? asked the poor sob on the ground.
- Oh, so.. you don't know? Is that because you really don't remember? Or that you did it so many times that you don't remember who? asked the smaller one with venom in his words.
- I... I don't... Please, I beg you, please! pleaded the mark.
- Remember some years ago? That fourteen year-old you raped and almost killed?... Payback's a bitch! yelled a biker.
- Please, I didn't mean to... I thought... and his words we're cut in half by chain that hit his neck.
- Not his face, not yet... Not before we finish with him. asked the smallest of the bikers.
- Then, let's make good use of the rest of him. said the pony tailed one and started to hit.

Blows started flowing from all directions. The sound of metal hitting flesh was filling the air, and the rest was silence. The smell of death started to creep in along side with the smell of piss and blood. The screeams we're silenced by more hits and more muffled metal hits. Bone shattering sounds pierced the night and made the moon shiver on the celestial bolt. Blood was filling their eyes and blackness blurred their vision. Only rage and justice fed them. They took no breath of air and they kept on hitting everywhere they could. They twitched in sadisfaction with each blow that broke a bone and sadisfaction imprinted a smile on their lips. The sick smile of revenge, the sweet taste of paying back the agony brought on the world. Their hands we're numb at pain and the only feeling they bare was the bats stoping on the almost lifeless body. They felt wings growing out of their backs and the grace of God looking down uppon while ensuing divine providence and retribution. Vengence filled their guts and judgement kept them going. Minutes passed and almost all the bones in his body we're broken in more than one place.

- It's enough for now. We need to finish the plan. said one of the bikers while sighsing tired.
- Ok, then... I guess it's time. said another.

The latter one, the artist, pulled off his gloves and put on surgical gloves instead. He reached in the backpack of another biker and removed a tattoo gun. While the rest kept him down he started writing fast, yet steady "Rapist" on the mark's forehead. Making sure it will be imprinted for the rest of his life, a scar to bear, a sign to wear. To forever remember the day he hurt a small, little young girl. And who knows why many more...

- Ok, patch his tattoo up and give him a Glasgow Smile. We've been around long enough, I don't want any unpleasent surprises. said one of the bikers while handing a knife to another one. He cut his face up and left him there to suffer while all of them started running back to the bikes. When they got to them they saw a group of people running twards them and they hurried away. The schreeching sounds of the tires and the rubber on the asphalt was everything the group found of the bikers.

Later, the news crew found a paper clipping explaning everything and all the people could talk was about the Archangels that brought justice in a city without hope. How they made parents feel safer for their children and villans be scared. The morning came and the sun shined brighter than ever. She was there and the nighmares stoped. The faceless man stoped appering in her dreams because that man got what he deserved. The sparrows flew and the coffee tasted better. That morning, when they all met on the balcony for their usual ciggarette, they felt good. They felt fulfilled and they felt happy. Justice was brought down from the heavens.

Sper sa va fi placut. Am scris asta pentru ca am citit un blog zilele trecute ce continea proza si m-am gandit sa mai incerc si eu odata. Ideea e ca povestea a fost inspirata din alt blog, tot o poveste, tot proza. Ca un fel de continuare la Cosmarurile. Sper doar ca v-ati inclestat pumnii si v-ati relaxat spre final, sper ca v-ati simtit la fel de bine cititnd, ca si mine scriind. Pentru ca uneori, razbunarea e dulce foc. Oricum, acest blog e dedicat celor care m-au inspirat, dar si celor care au trecut prin astfel de situatii ingrate. Keep on hoping that somewhere, someday your Archangel will drop from heavens carrying fiery vengance, si in final, va las pe Flipside - Happy Birthday. Stiu ca nu are legatura cu postul, doar ca e pentru cineva acolo sus. Un pic cam tarziu, dar mai bine decat niciodata.

Si, nu uitati, sperati la culori, pentru ca gri-ul din jurul nostru nu ne face dacat some old broken toys...

2 comentarii:

  1. Astept cu mare interes si urmatoarea poveste. Cred ca ar trebui sa mai scrii proza, fictiune, pentru ca ai talent si imaginatie, timp gasesti daca vrei, iar subiectele sunt la tot pasul daca esti dispus sa le vezi. Spor la scris pagini colorate! :P

  2. Multumesc. :)

    Tinand cont ca am citit ce-ai scris pana acum, apreciez mai mult complimentul. :)