An exploration of cutting words at the edge of insanity
The protagonist stood under the lamp post lighting his cigarette, he contemplated his next move. Few knew his name and even less had ever seen his face. He could move about freely with the rare occasion that even a single person would ever recall his presence. Yet when he did everyone in the local would be of a somber mood. He made his decision, tonight would be the night he would make that visit to which few desired. It would be this night and this moment he would pour out his mind upon all those who were deserving.
He began to move through the cobble-stoned streets that were dimly lit, the only thing following him being his shadow. The evening was cool as mist rose up from the cracks and crevices creating a creepy sensation that accompanied such events. His mind filled with bitter anger verging on the edge of insanity, it took all of his will to keep his composure. Surely he thought they will be waiting for him, how could they not? They had been making his life a literal hell for years. They will be waiting, they will be ready, and they will be armed.
Seven men sat in a small dark and dank room, they huddled together with their backs to the wall. Their hearts filled with fear, they murmured and spoke to each other with baited breath. The air was thick, mucky and tasted of death, for all new what was coming for them. Every sound no matter how small raised the hairs on the backs of their necks. Soon he would come, slowly he would meat out his justice upon them, even as they thought about it they all began to wail in unison. If one had been there they would have sworn it was nothing but the sounds of a raging storm brewing beyond the walls, but they all knew better.
In an unexpected moment when they were all becoming drowsy the protagonist appeared in front of them. No one moved, a deafening silence filled all the souls present, all eyes were fixed upon the man in front of them. The new presence had his head down as if he was in a moment of grief. But as he lifted his head it was apparent his eyes spoke something very different. They all understood it and trembled in fear, this started them all fidgeting and moving like tortured minions waiting to receive what they deserved.
The protagonist opened his mouth and ushered forth his knife cutting words.
Wrath, Greed, Sloth, Pride, Lust, Envy, and Gluttony, I see you are all here.
His voice revealing his pleasure that all were present. The hands that were once at his side, now were now clasped with tension. He had waited years to gather them together, his breathing was heavy, his chest heaving, it was now or never. He unleashed a tirade of pent up feelings on them, watching as each word that exited from his vocal chords became daggers striking down each of them into a bloody pool of blood, urine, and defecation. None of them had a defense, all were guilty.
He turned is back without remorse and strode away in confidence knowing that none of them would rise again to take any place in his life. He had come to conquer, he left a free man. Now everyone would know his name.
His name, well it’s the name of every person who faces the worst in his life. It’s the name of all the downtrodden, displaced, abused and abandoned. It’s the name of the man that falls and stumbles, gets beat up and marred but doesn’t give up. His name is “Freedom”.