4208 Collwood Lane
8:27 PM
THE NOMAD
I walked down a long, dark road, prepared for the best. With a twinkle in my eye and a smile on my face I searched and searched for the right person. However long I looked, I couldn't seem to find them. Then I saw him. He shambled down the road with tattered clothes and a pack on his back. He looked very tired and hungry. And vulnerable. I put on my best concerned face and walked up to him. He smelled of low quality alcohol and body odor. He was staring off into nothing and his eyes were glazed over. Our conversation went something like this.
"Are you okay?", I asked.
"No, not at all. I've been walking for days straight and need somewhere to rest. I am also very thirsty and hungry and..." his thoughts seemed to trail off. He breathed a low, audible breath. Steam escaped into the sky as he closed his mouth.
"Oh, well why don't you come back with me to my home. I wouldn't want a poor soul like you to be left out in the cold."
I took him by the hand and led him down the street. He was somehow very sweaty, even though it was a relatively cold night. I didn't know where I was going, I just knew I needed to find a place with less streetlights. We walked for a good ten minutes before I found a good place. Ah yes here we are, I thought to myself, time to get ready. Positions people!
I turned around and put a look on my face that said, 'Oh, I have forgotten something oh so important'.
"There's something I need to tell you", I said in a relatively worried tone.
"Well, what's that now", he asked, looking a bit concerned.
"Not everyone is who you think they are..." and with that I gave a him a good stab in the stomach. I felt a sweet relief as it went through the skin. I could feel the knife moving through his stomach. I could feel the blood dripping on my hands. A lot more blood then I expected came gushing out. It felt almost like water.
He tried to yell but my hand was over his mouth before a single note could be uttered. How easy this was. How quickly I assumed such power. His eyes began to become glassy and I forced him to kneel down on his knees. He looked up at me with the best face I've ever seen in my life. He looked so afraid. So worried for himself. Worried for his loved ones. If he had any, that is. A good slash across the throat sent him down on the ground with a hard crack and I smiled even bigger than I already was. Blood poured down his neck and chest and dripped on to the ground. I could smell how fresh it was. I could almost taste it. I stomped on his head, relishing the bone crunching I could feel under my boot and decided that was enough. I left him there, blood spilling into the gutter. He almost looked happy.
They say there's a first time for everything.
DT
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