Let’s hope Darth is not your critique partner.
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He – by Morgan
Dripping with water, the man dropped to his knees in front of me. As gravity pulled him further toward the floor, it seemed as though I was seeing it in slow motion. The metal on his belt jangled, the soaking wet clothes ballooned and sprayed water in a circle around him. As the smack of his knees upon the cold marble sounded, time seemed to go back to it’s normal pace. The dark, stringy hair upon his head swooped down to cover his eyes as he bowed his head and whispered slowly, “I have done all that you have asked.”
I could see his pitch black eyes staring up at me through the curtain of hair, watching, calculating. I studied a drop of water as it beaded up on the end of a lock and slowly succumb to gravity’s eternal call. More drops came from his chin, but these were streaked with red from a deep cut on his cheek. A cut I had caused. A cut I had inflicted. Pain that my problems and desires had caused. More places on the man’s body bore the deep red pigment of life, though not all of it was from this man’s body. Yet, all of it was on my hands.
This would be my last. One last human, and I would finally be free from the wretched curse that held me captive. Though, those chains would only be replaced with irons of guilt. They already have. And yet, what did I have to lose?
I made my decision and brought the knife down. Time once again slowed as I watched the cold, heartless piece of metal come down for one last stroke.
Categories: Critique Group