Fury: Chapter 1

Fury

 

This can't be real,

those words springed my mind,

like a swiss clock,

my senses sharper than ever before,

my heart is beating against my ribs,

my arms are shaking,

from rage,

which dwells deep inside my own mind,

my nightmares step aside,

for this rage suprasses every mental blockade inside me.

 

My breaths are deep,

and my body trembles,

my palms start to sweat,

and the shaking in my arms is becoming worse!

deep within i know what i have to do,

i must kill,

imust destroy,

i must clench this rage!

And the fire of my rage shall diminish,

i will have cursed blood on my hands,

and this world will be a safer place!

 

Hate is growing,

fear escapes before this wrath,

i'm silent,

yet inside i scream in fury,

silent hate for him,

whom hurted my most dearest friend.

 

Blood boils in my vein,

my heart freezes over,

the sense of killing,

now overcoming my whole body,

my fingers are cold,

like the steel trigger against my finger,

as i raise the 12 gauge shotgun from my father's weapon safe,

i load it up with lead shells,

and remove the lighter steel shells.

 

As i walk out our parent's bedroom,

i load the first shell to the chamber,

a soothing sound of metal and springs,

from the semi-auto shotgun,

my knuckles are white,

from the unconscious death-grip.

 

Ignition of a direct injection motor,

and the bright headlights illuminate the road ahead,

rage seeps from my every cell,

and the comforting shotgun is beside me.

 

Below a Night's starry sky,

a organic machine of destruction is moving closer to his target,

in speed exceeding over 150 km/h (somewhat 93-95 miles / h, i think),

cold determination fueling the flaming wrath,

and the gas pedal hit's the floor.

 

Cold winter's air slaps me into my face,

as i raise from my car,

cold frame of the shotgun caressing my palm,

i take a box of shells with me,

before i shoot the lock on the front door.

 

When i see him marching towards me,

still partially asleep,

i take aim to his legs,

for this i want to be slow,

the torture,

which i've just specially made for him.

 

Shotgun's rear part is against my shoulder,

and without hesitation,

or doubt,

i pull the trigger,

and the rear part presses my shoulder back,

from the force of the explosion inside the barrel,

even though i pressed my shoulder against it,

as hard as i can,

but in the end,

i enjoy the sound,

of a loud explosion of pellet's flying,

to cripple my prey.

 

Leaning towards him,

i ask if he knows whom i am,

he doesn't recognize me,

so i press the barrel against his right leg ankle,

and press the trigger,

oh,

what a sweet sound it let's out of it's barrel.

 

I start to reload,

and i ask again,

if he recognizes me,

through the agonized screams i can hear "yes",

and i look at his eyes,

they're full of pain,

full of horror,

and yet i feel nothing.

 

I put my shotgun away,

(out of his reach anyway),

and i pull out the knife,

which my father has used for so many years,

to butcher all kind's of fish,

i have no need to spoil a good knife on this,

he's just a prey,

just a meaningless fish before me.

 

I strike my knife,

and he tries to stop it,

but i rip his stomach wide open,

and grab his intestine's,

before i pull 'em out,

and watch him gurgle and bleed.

 

He begs for help,

he prays for god,

but help 'aint coming,

and god has forsaken him,

there is only i,

his rightful judge,

jury,

and executioner.

 

With his last dying breath,

i curse his name,

i curse his family,

i curse him,

and i promise something,

before he takes his last blood-filled breath.

 

"When you die,

you should start to find a hiding place for yourself,

because when i get to the gates of Hell,

i'll hunt you down,

and i'll torture,

butcher,

and kill you,

over and over again,

for the rest of eternity..."

 

As the blue and red flashing colors arrive to the front door,

i look at the dead body,

without regret,

without remorse,

and as i'm pressed against the floor,

and my hand's are being plased into handcuffs,

i slowly realise something,

i should have taken my time torturing him,

instead of letting him go that easily.