Damned Katana

Unsheathing the katana in the pelting rain, I stood singularly where the lightning had pock-marked its existence, beads of tears, sweat, rain rolled down my cheeks, I was uncertain of my power. The sea of dead bodies, swilled with blood and cuts, it was all my doings, the conscience kicked my hard, deluging my eyes with the terror that I had unleashed.

I raised my feet above the ground, realising it was cemented with the decomposing structures of humans. I cupped my hands unto my mouth, dropping my katana into the bemired ground, it gleamed in crimson red, I shuddered in fear of what I had done. There was a decapitated head laying in the reflection of the katana, the odious feeling swarmed my head, spelling a dreadful cast unto my heart, Did I… kill all of them…? My thoughts were trembling without the foundation of illusion, it became a fact when it was presented right in front of my sight.

Crouching down to knee length, I gripped the slimy arm of a dead men, it was cleanly cut off from his body, without any creases, divulging a head sliced perfectly in half, nothing spilled out of his skull, it was just pure red, black, dirt. The soulless eyes stared straight into me, imploring me for mercy. Give me power! Give me blood! An awfully familiar voice raged inside my rib cage. It was me.

Casually, I sauntered into the wide field where my comrades were practising sword-to-sword combat, there was the rustling of the unsettled foot works of theirs, the cursed katana got into my head, I started my killing spree, I was possessed by the damning katana, a surge of obscure anger raced into my head, letting it to rein over me, and there I stood, above all the dead bodies killed by me.


Craving for more? Down below:
Double Agent
One Last Time
It Is Us.

Published by zeckrombryan

Hope. Joy. Feelings cloaked as words.

One thought on “Damned Katana

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