Days Gone By [P]

Mon Oct 15, 2018 1:10 pm

Rain of biblical proportions poured from the heavens as wet footsteps left prints in the muddy floor. It was the right thing, it was the right thing. He ran, the fresh wound in his abdomen spilling blood onto the ground as he ran. He had lost track of how long he had been limping, stumbling, running. He had to get away.

---

There was always something about fire that ignited an obsession in those that loved destruction. Perhaps it was due to fire’s multifaceted usage; the lust for a power that one felt when he found that he could turn a tool used for warmth and preparing meals to a weapon to burn down the very hearths that used it. The band of Jashinists that Sakimori had found himself with viewed fire in only one way: an instrument for a cleansing purge. Another town where no one wished to turn. Another town to be slaughtered in the name of a god of death.

The teenage form of Sakimori looked around in fear as he witnessed men and women he traveled with destroy the lives of those who lived here. Screams cried out, yells were silenced, crying was snuffed out. All in the name of god. Tears rolled down his face. It mattered not whether they were men, women, or children; all were lambs for an unjust slaughter. His feet were stuck in the ground. He wanted to move, to help, but everywhere he looked he knew he would be too late. All he was able to do was look on as families were slain. He balled his fists and closed his eyes, frustrated at the world for its cruelty and himself for his lack of ability. A nearby scream caught his attention, his eyes shooting open and looking for a source amid the orange village, burning before his eyes. A girl no older than himself was running backwards from a cultist before she tripped and fell. She tried to push herself away from him, but his wicked glare and spear followed her.

Move.

His legs took over for his brain, his body moving before he realized what he was doing. He sped to intercept the girl from the cultist, staring him down with a fire that burned hotter than his surroundings. He spread his arms out as a manner to protect her from harm. He knew these types. They did not even care for the religion itself, they merely had a thirst for blood and loved having a reason to do so. He yelled to hear himself over the roaring fires, “This isn’t right! What kind of god tolerates the slaughtering of innocent people!” The girl stood upwards from her position, scuttling behind Sakimori, the only person who was able to protect her. So she thought.

Glugh.

Sakimori looked down in horror, the point of a spear finding itself lodged in his stomach. Blood flowed from the wound, burning in pain, but the adrenaline surge dulled it. Enough for his face to fall further as he felt the girl’s grip slacken and her weight fall backwards with a lifeless thud. The spear was pulled out from him as he fell to his knees, turning his head and losing his balance. He fell on his side as he struggled to check up on her, crimson leaking from her stomach in the same spot he had been stabbed. The spear had gone through his own useless body. Instinctually, Sakimori went for her head, attempting to hold it up, only to be met with lifeless eyes and a stream of blood spilling out of her mouth. He went to cry out but his voice failed him. Just like he had failed her.

Sakimori looked up to see the cultist’s boot as he delivered a heavy kick and knocked him backwards, his limp body rolling on the ground. The man scoffed and said a single word, "Pathetic," before walking away to finish the massacre. Sakimori struggled to push himself up and cried out in pain, which brought the attention of his adoptive mother. As she approached, he looked at her with nothing but hate in his eyes. A hatred for the cult that had killed his own home. A hatred for her for not killing him. A hatred for his immortality that will extend the life he hates. She called out to him as he began to stand and limp away from this hell that he had found himself in. The woman reached a hand out to him, but did not run after him, even as tears rolled down her cheeks. Her faith in a corrupt god outweighed any motherly affection she possessed.

---

The rain poured down as Sakimori continued running through a forest. The trees helped to lessen the amount of rain that was pouring down, instead the water falling onto the leaves and rolling off. It did not matter where he was going, only that it was away. The sound of rustlings leaves came to a halt as he broke through the tree line, stumbling as he did so and falling onto the muddy ground. He struggled to look upwards, but the wound in his abdomen was bleeding out. This would not be enough to kill him, but his body may very well shut down from the blood loss until it healed. He saw the blurry shape of lights in a clearing free of trees, instead populated by blobs of color that must have been buildings. His eyes shut as he lost consciousness.