A story that came to me out of nowhere. I have no clue where I'm supposed to go with this. I'm only 15. This is only a rough draft. Don't be too harsh. Thanks.
For several hours the man sat with his back against the old willow tree, just a few hundred feet away from the first house in the town of Danazen. It was a small, quaint town where the few residents were kind enough to let any stranger into their house. As the sun started to set the streets were empty and the whole town was eerily hushed.
Now’s my chance…but…can I really go through with this? The tall, lean man stood up and leaned back against the willow tree, a soothing wind sent chills down his back. With one hand by his side and the other gripping firmly onto the small yet deadly gun concealed in the pocket of his sweatshirt, he gazed at the horizon. The sunset was magnificent that particular evening, the sun was surrounded by a beautiful orange shade. A small butterfly, the only animal or human within his site, fluttered around his head.
And suddenly the man began to feel sympathy, wondering how he ever could have considered doing the horrifying deed that he had spent several sleepless nights thinking about. He let go of the gun with his right hand and slowly pulled it out from his dark blue sweatshirt. Then he opened his palm and the butterfly landed on it.
The man laughed to himself and took in the beautiful day.
“I can’t kill a simple butterfly, let alone the woman I used to love! What the hell was I thinking?”
He laughed at himself for being so stupid. With his left hand the man pulled off the hood that he was planning to use to hide his face, revealing long, brown stringy hair overlapping a pair of wire frame glasses. His eyes were a light shade of green, the kind that any man would remember after seeing them one time. If someone stared into his eyes deep enough, then it was as if they were able to see the pain that he had suffered, the torment his soul had endured.
His gaze dropped back down to the small white butterfly sitting on his hand.
“You poor thing. You’re at the bottom of the food chain and there’s not a thing you can do about it. Being stuck in the cycle of life, struggling to survive each day. I pity you.” He told the butterfly in a soothing voice. The man then laughed as he realized he was wearing his old wedding ring on his ring finger.
He pulled the ring off with his left hand and stared at it for a second. It was a beautiful yet simple golden ring from his wedding night.
“But that was the past,” The tall man sighed and clenched the ring in his fist. “it’s time to move on.” He threw the ring down the little dirt path that led from the small hill that the willow stood on to Danazen, watching it roll until it rolled out of sight into the long grass of a neglected yard.
The man smiled, glad that he had decided not to carry out his horrific plan. The butterfly still sat motionless in his right hand. But I need to see her, one more time. He had mustered up enough courage to glance into the woman’s windowsill, and was surprised to see half of her body sticking out of the open window. She looked as beautiful as she always did, her long, shiny black hair rested on her shoulders and her beautiful blue eyes stared outside at the same sunset he was watching. She had her head rested on her petite hands, gazing at the sky. It’s almost as beautiful as you…he thought. His heart was jumping; he could finally see the woman he loved one last time.
Before he knew it, his perfect image was shattered. A large man had appeared beside her, his short blonde hair that rested upon his tight jaw and masculine face. The man on the hill’s heart ached. You only like him because he’s better looking than me! No one will ever love you like the way I did! The way I do! Once again rage filled his body and he stuck his left hand back into his sweatshirt pocket, a vice like grip on his small pistol. By now the sun had set and a few stars dotted the night sky.
The man and the woman reseeded back into the house and closed the window. Next to the willow was an embodiment of anger, envy, hate, distrust, and love.
“You don’t know how much I loved you!” He shouted even though no one could hear him. “I swear, we’ll be together again! Even if it means in death!” He clenched his right hand, immediately killing the butterfly that he had cared about just minutes before. The man wiped the dead butterfly on his pants, not like it would matter. If everything went according to plan then he would be dead within the next five minutes anyways.
With a brisk pace the man started down the hill, following the narrow dirt path. After just a few steps he heard a rustle in the tree and stopped, glancing behind his back to see if anyone was there. But the only semi-living thing within his eyesight was the large, rotting willow. He cautiously turned his head back around, nearing the brink of insanity.
“If there’s anyone behind me then you had better leave. I’m not afraid to shoot!” His ears listened for some kind of noise indicating a human being behind him. After a few moments he decided that no one was there. He continued his vigorous pace towards the small town but made little progress as a voice behind him interrupted the silence of the night.
“If I were you then I would stop right here, Jared Taylor.” The voice was semi-deep, as if it belonged to someone who still hadn’t finished growing. Jared started to turn around but was cut off by the voice again.
“You don’t want to do that, Mr. Taylor. I have a blade right next to your throat. If you turn your head any more then I will kill you.”
Jared laughed maniacally, “So I’m being mugged by a street punk, huh? You better go back to where you came from, if you know what’s good for you.”
“I don’t believe that you’re in the position to make threats, Mr. Taylor. I’ll prove to you that I am not lying about the blade.” Jared felt a small sting on the side of his neck, a single drop of crimson blood dripped down onto his sweatshirt.
And suddenly his heart started racing. Jared knew that this wasn’t any ordinary person he was dealing with. The blade felt ice cold. Like death.
“H-how do you know my name!?” Clear signs of fear could be heard in his voice, which had turned from maniacal to fearful.
The voice behind him spoke again, still remaining just as calm as it had been before. “I know a lot of things about you. I even know that you were planning to kill you ex-wife, Elane Rose, tonight. You couldn’t bare the thought of her with another man, you were obsessed with her. And that‘s why she doesn’t love you anymore. You were too obsessed with her then and you still are now. It’s not Elane’s fault that you’re a lonely, miserable being now. It’s not even her boyfriend Evan’s fault.
And for many nights you wanted to be with her again, you tried every single way that you could to contact her. Except for in person. You had become to obsessed with the idea of loving her that you didn’t even care about her anymore. In your mind, the only thing worth living for was Elane’s love. You realized that it was impossible to make her love you, so instead you decided that you had to be with her, even if it was just death. But I’m pretty sure that’s not how it works, Mr. Taylor.”
A look of horror flashed across Jared’s face. “B-b-but I never told anyone about any of that! H-how c-could you…” He could scarcely form a complete sentence in his condition of shock.
“Unbeknownst to you, I’ve been watching your every move for the past few weeks. I knew that you were seeking the death of your ex-wife. I came here to stop you. Actually, I was hoping you’d realize how foolish you were. And you almost did.”
Jared started shaking uncontrollably from fear. But that fear turned into laughter.
“You’re just trying to screw with me, you’re not for real!’ He ducked and rolled a few feet until he reached the bottom of the small hill and then pulled out the dark pistol from his sweatshirt pocket, aiming it at the person he saw at the top of the hill.
The insane, tortured man was much more than surprised by what he saw. At the top of the hill was a short figure, one that couldn’t be taller than 5’8 at max. But the strangest thing was the figures clothing. The person was wearing a black, one piece outfit that appeared to conceal one’s arms and legs. Covering the top half of the stranger’s face was a hood that was also part of the outfit. The boots were black and extremely clean, not a scratch on them; as were his gloves. In the mysterious figure’s right hand was a long black pole with a large, sharp curved blade on its end. It was a scythe. An extravagant one at that, however it reminded Jared of the feeling that the blade of the scythe had on his neck. The scythe, the outfit, the mysterious person at the top of the hill; it all made him think of death.
And deep inside of the barely sane mind of Jared Taylor, something snapped. Suddenly he broke out into a crazy frenzy, shooting silenced bullets this way and that. Several hit the unmoving figure’s body, but just seemed to pass right through it. Jared kept shooting until the only thing that came out of his gun was a small click.
The figure pulled off the hood. His face was of average size, with black hair and occasional streaks of grey running through it. His eyes were black and his skin was fairly white. A smile played across his lips.
“You’re…You’re just a kid!” Jared screamed on the ground, at an extreme point of insanity as he was squirming on the ground, just like a newborn baby.
The boy in the black outfit started walking slowly towards Jared, who lacked enough sense to pull himself off the ground and run. In the boys right hand the large scythe was being carried with ease. Jared finally sat up just as the figure was about five feet away from him, pressing the scythe’s blade against his neck.
“Any last words, Mr. Taylor?” The boy said, his smile gone, replaced with a rather grim look.
“Wh-who are you!?” Jared’s green eyes were wide under his glasses, and he looked almost as insane as he actually was.
“I wish I knew myself. They call me…the Reaper.” The boy said. Giving the man just enough time to let the terrifying words sink in, he swung the scythe, slicing clean through Jared’s neck.
“He didn’t even have enough time to scream,” The boy stared at the dead butterfly that still rested on the detached body’s pants mournfully. “You know what they say, Mr. Taylor. A life for a life.”