tone was somewhat challenging. Elijah was sure she knew he was no liar, but he also knew his story didn’t make any sense. Still, she couldn’t ignore the lifeless body lying on her hearth.
Elijah rubbed his head and stared down at the floor. He didn’t say a word. He wasn’t even listening; he was lost.
“We don’t have much time before your mother starts to stink. You’ll have to get her in the ground soon.” She was being kind; the stench of dead flesh was already overtaking the sweet smell of burning incense and making it hard for Elijah to breathe.
“There’s a large stone just up the hill,” he said. “It’s where we played as children and mother used to tell us stories.” The old lady was already nodding before Elijah had finished speaking.
“Yes, I think that would be perfect. You go put your mother to rest, and I’ll put on some supper. After you’ve eaten, I’ll help you clean off the rest of that blood, make you a bit more presentable.”
“No, thank you. I’ll be fine.” Elijah didn’t feel hungry; he was still too upset to keep anything down. Besides, the old lady had done enough.
“What’ll you do?” she asked, seeming more curious than concerned.
“I’m going to find them, and I need to hurry.” Elijah gently swept his mother’s wrapped body up in his arms and headed for the door.
“What’ll you do when you find them?” she shouted as Elijah walked out the door.
“I’m going to kill them.” His grit and determination were growing by the moment. His hate grew with every step he took carrying his mother up the steep hill. He was no longer a man. He was a purpose, a cause; he had nothing else, and nothing else mattered.
Chapter 4
He dug a deep grave next to the stone and placed his mother inside as gently as he could. The smell of sod and wet dirt was comfortingly familiar. When he looked over at the huge pile of dirt, it seemed to be climbing its way to the top of the stone, the way he and his brothers used to. Their mother would sit on the stone and tell stories or sing songs while he and his brothers climbed all over her.
She told them wonderful tales of courage and love, heroes and villains, stories that had fired his imagination. He realized now they hadn’t just been stories. Now Elijah had seen villainy and known the deepest of evils, but he was no hero, nor did he want to be. He had no desire for justice or peace. He would not seek recompense or to balance the scales. Nothing could restore what had been taken. So he would bring punishment; he would bring balance; he would bring death.
A nice enough place . She loved it here. He knew his mother would have approved of her eternal home.
After filling in the grave, he said his tearful goodbyes and started walking. He knew he would never see this place again, nor did he want to. It was too late in the day to make it very far before dark, but he didn’t want to stay another night in this place, and oddly, he wasn’t at all tired from the digging.
A small stream stretched both east and west of the small cottage where he grew up. Sara still lived with her parents in a cottage much like the one he had known for so long. It was only about an hour’s walk through the dense forest, following the stream to the east. His steps were quick and light. He wasn’t running, but he moved with an ease and speed that astonished him.
He initially dismissed it as excitement, but he couldn’t explain it away when he saw the small cottage off in the distance in barely half the time it should have taken him to get there.
He could tell it was dark, but he could see with a startling acuity, much deeper into the night than ever before. Staring once again towards the cottage, he noticed something was different. Curiosity and concern set his feet in motion, and he took off at a full sprint. His feet pushed from the ground as if he were weightless; he launched himself forward with every step.
What is going on? How can I be
Elijah rubbed his head and stared down at the floor. He didn’t say a word. He wasn’t even listening; he was lost.
“We don’t have much time before your mother starts to stink. You’ll have to get her in the ground soon.” She was being kind; the stench of dead flesh was already overtaking the sweet smell of burning incense and making it hard for Elijah to breathe.
“There’s a large stone just up the hill,” he said. “It’s where we played as children and mother used to tell us stories.” The old lady was already nodding before Elijah had finished speaking.
“Yes, I think that would be perfect. You go put your mother to rest, and I’ll put on some supper. After you’ve eaten, I’ll help you clean off the rest of that blood, make you a bit more presentable.”
“No, thank you. I’ll be fine.” Elijah didn’t feel hungry; he was still too upset to keep anything down. Besides, the old lady had done enough.
“What’ll you do?” she asked, seeming more curious than concerned.
“I’m going to find them, and I need to hurry.” Elijah gently swept his mother’s wrapped body up in his arms and headed for the door.
“What’ll you do when you find them?” she shouted as Elijah walked out the door.
“I’m going to kill them.” His grit and determination were growing by the moment. His hate grew with every step he took carrying his mother up the steep hill. He was no longer a man. He was a purpose, a cause; he had nothing else, and nothing else mattered.
Chapter 4
He dug a deep grave next to the stone and placed his mother inside as gently as he could. The smell of sod and wet dirt was comfortingly familiar. When he looked over at the huge pile of dirt, it seemed to be climbing its way to the top of the stone, the way he and his brothers used to. Their mother would sit on the stone and tell stories or sing songs while he and his brothers climbed all over her.
She told them wonderful tales of courage and love, heroes and villains, stories that had fired his imagination. He realized now they hadn’t just been stories. Now Elijah had seen villainy and known the deepest of evils, but he was no hero, nor did he want to be. He had no desire for justice or peace. He would not seek recompense or to balance the scales. Nothing could restore what had been taken. So he would bring punishment; he would bring balance; he would bring death.
A nice enough place . She loved it here. He knew his mother would have approved of her eternal home.
After filling in the grave, he said his tearful goodbyes and started walking. He knew he would never see this place again, nor did he want to. It was too late in the day to make it very far before dark, but he didn’t want to stay another night in this place, and oddly, he wasn’t at all tired from the digging.
A small stream stretched both east and west of the small cottage where he grew up. Sara still lived with her parents in a cottage much like the one he had known for so long. It was only about an hour’s walk through the dense forest, following the stream to the east. His steps were quick and light. He wasn’t running, but he moved with an ease and speed that astonished him.
He initially dismissed it as excitement, but he couldn’t explain it away when he saw the small cottage off in the distance in barely half the time it should have taken him to get there.
He could tell it was dark, but he could see with a startling acuity, much deeper into the night than ever before. Staring once again towards the cottage, he noticed something was different. Curiosity and concern set his feet in motion, and he took off at a full sprint. His feet pushed from the ground as if he were weightless; he launched himself forward with every step.
What is going on? How can I be
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