Becoming the Villain

He gripped the photo tighter and tighter until it bent and crumpled and then tore it to shreds. Then, with anger filling him, he wrecked everything in sight. Books were pulled off shelves and thrown. Knickknacks were tossed to the floor where they shattered. Tables and chars were overturned. He grabbed a knife from the kitchen and slashed paintings and photos on the walls. He took a bat and shattered his windows. Nothing was spared from his anger. Finally, when the edge of his anger had been dulled, he grabbed his jacket, keys, and emergency cash and left. He would be back, however. He would be back to wreak havoc and take his revenge.

To Save a Town 1

"I'm sorry, Corin." she whispered, sending a telepathic burst of regret to him as she hit him on back of the head. She caught him as he slumped to the ground, lowering him gently. He would never forgive her for this; but it couldn't be helped. She couldn't let a whole town be punished for something it hadn't even known it had done.

"Soroya!" their friend Mark cried in a whisper, "What are you doing?!" He knelt to check her brother's pulse.

"Mark, I need you to stay here with him." she answered. "I'm going to turn myself in."

"What?! Are you crazy?!" Mark replied, almost shouting, as he stood and faced her. "They'll send you to the camps, if they don't kill you."

"Mark," she said, grasping his shoulders. "listen to me. I am aware of what will happen, but I can't let all those people suffer for something they haven't technically done. Nothing you can say will change my mind. I'm going to tell them that Corin is dead. I know it will be hard, but you cannot let him come after me. He has to stay free. He is more important than he knows. Do you understand? He cannot be captured too."

Mark, who had been looking at her in the beginning, glanced away when she asked if he understood. He stared at her brother for a minute, and then sighed. "Yes. I understand."

"Thank you." she whispered as she wrapped him in a hug. He returned it and it lasted for a few seconds. Then, she pulled away and stepped back. She gave him a small smile and then pushed into the air, topping the buildings surrounding them in a matter of seconds.

Mark watched her fly, and then sat down beside the unconscious Corin. He was going to be infuriated when he woke up. How did she expect him, a mere human, to hold back someone who was essentially Superman?

A Heavy Choice

I stared at the list of names. All of these people, every single one, was a stranger. Most importantly, every single one was dead; and they were dead because of me. I was my fault, and yet.... it wasn't. I'd had decision to make. No matter what I did, people were going to die. The question had been, "How many?" I tried not to make the decision, be all "smart-alek" and going with "no one;" but people had died anyway. The one forcing the decision on me had reminded me that the question was "How many? Would it be a  small handful of unknown, but no less important, people? Or, a larger group, who's size was the equivalent of a small nation? How many people would die?" Finally, I chose. Heaven help me, I chose. "The needs of the many..." and all that. What else was I supposed to do? Let a millions of people die, or only a couple hundred? I am not proud of my choice, but I wouldn't change it. The decision was made, and I have to live with it. You judge me, but if the choice had been yours, what would you have done?

A Change of Heart

"Well, what can I say. Love changes people."

"Love?! You, a self-proclaimed 'scoundrel and bachelor'? You think you're in love?"

"Yeah, I do. So what?"


"This is hilarious! Does she know what you do? What you used to do? Does she have any idea who you really are?"

.........

"I'll take your silence as a resounding, 'no'. Why haven't you told her? Are you afraid of what she'll say or of what she'll do?"

"Both."

"I see. So, you believe, in that tiny little lovesick brain of yours, that if you sacrifice yourself she'll see you for who you want her to believe you are; that she'll never have to know that you are everything she hates and despises. You also believe that even if she finds out that she will still 'love' you, provided you sacrifice yourself first. That sound about right?"

"More or less. Can we get this over with?"

 "Why? You in a hurry to die? Because that's what the deal was. One of you sacrifices themselves and the others go free."

"I know what the deal was."

"No pleading? No 'last minute deals'?"

"No."

"Would you like to write a farewell letter for her to cherish when you're gone?"

"No."

"Very well then. As soon as your hearts stops your friends are free to go."

The Dragon

 He stared at the dragon crouching before him. He should not have gone out on his own. No one would know what had happened to him. His mother would spend the rest of her days expecting him to come home, like she did for his father. He couldn't climb the rocks, they were too step and smooth. Besides, dragons could fly. He would just be making himself an easier target. He couldn't dash to the side and try to run around either. The dragon's reptilian eyes tracked his every movement and it moved it's body to block his every time he tried. There wasn't anything to do but fight and hope for a miracle.

Flowers for His Grave

I remove the dead flowers in the vase and replaced them with fresh ones, daisies this time. I stand up and stare at them, framing the gravestone. My friends always ask my why I bother with the flowers, the man had been my enemy after all. I can't really say why. It's a compulsion. The man had no family and no friends to miss him. I was probably the closest thing to a "friend" he'd had, and all we had done was fight and argue. He hadn't always been that way. Our research shows that he'd had a family once, and friends too; but in one sweep, tragedy took that all away and he had let the bitterness it brought fester. By the time I met him, all that he had been was gone. He had wanted nothing but to destroy the world that had hurt him and taken all that was dear to him. It had been my job to stop him. I didn't hate him, and I don't really believe he hated me personally. I was simply standing in his way. He would have done the same to anyone who had opposed him. He had been right about some things- the unfairness of the world, the cruelty of man, etc- but his methods for dealing with them were wrong. I guess I feel sorry for him. It saddens me that no one is around to miss him for who he was; that the only people who remember him are those who were hurt or destroyed by him. In my mind, I'm not leaving the flowers for the man I killed, I'm leaving them for the man who was hurt by life and had died before I met him.