One Shots

Story No. 5

A/N: A fantasy story this time, I haven't set the whole idea yet but the main concept of it kinda appealed to me so I dunno yet about it's future xD But do read it and tell me what you think! Thank you! 

~RW

I sat there staring at the red stains on my hands, the abstract maroon lines covering most of my skin in a webbed pattern. I sat in a field; charred trees surrounded me, bathing in the shimmery light of the moon. There was emptiness inside of me growing larger by the second as the trees groaned and the wind blew. My eyes remained on my hands, my brain trying to decode where I was and what exactly was happening. Hesitantly my eyes travelled upwards, noticing the wide circle of destroyed field I currently sat in. the ground was black and burned, while no human sounds were present.

That’s when my eyes landed on the boy. He seemed young, about 15-16, his clothes were torn and his void eyes stared above at the clouds. He was dead. There was a huge gash on his head, the flesh inside visible while his grey shirt was soaked in deep dark blood. I crawled closer, my hands and knees disturbing the burnt ground. Seeing the boy up close expanded the hole inside me to twice its size. His throat had been sliced, like an animal set for sacrificed and his face remained frozen in the expression he had before he died; it was remorseful. His face flashed through my mind, smiling, laughing, disappointed yet the unfamiliarity remained.

I blew through my lips, white clouds forming in front of me in the cold night. I reluctantly raised my hands, afraid that the boy might disappear like everything else if I touched him. Even though my hand shivered in the cold wind, his body felt like ice beneath me. I closed his lifeless grey eyes, gasping sharply when a strange pain went through my body and a vision flashed in my mind.

“Gabby, I’m not that young, I understand. Just let me help you, I’m your brother.” The boy stood before me, we were in a backyard and I was seated on a swing, moving back and forth as I glared at him. My blonde crazy curls swished with the movement and I didn’t reply. His grey eyes looked pleadingly at me and I felt an emotion in the pit of my stomach, one I couldn’t name. His almond shaped eyes were set in a round tanned face with a narrow nose. His brown curls were bundled on his head and he kept tugging on them with one hand, as if it was some kind of nervous habit.

“I can’t let you help me.” I whispered, my voice slightly cracking and tears glistening in my eyes. I looked away, not ready to see his expression fall and the vision vanished, leaving me back in the field with the dead body of the boy who was none other than my brother. I removed my hand from his face, the confusion within me expanding. Something shined beside him and I reached over to pick up a blade; a blade covered in the dry blood of the boy. That’s when another memory crashed into me. One that stole away my breath and made me scramble away from the corpse as if he would stand up and accuse me of what I did.

Horror. That’s all I felt as I sat there, staring at the teenage boy. At the dried maroon blood covering him and I; the blood which had flown from his sliced throat onto his cold blooded murderer.

His cold blooded murderer; who had been none other than his sister herself: me.