He kept on running until he neared the village square. He'd been
running since he'd awoken around eleven. Now the sun was beginning
its descent to the horizon and bathing the town in shades of polls
and orange. He was out of breath and in desperate need of rest by
the time he fell to his knees on the cobble stone of the square.
He was surrounded by shops and taverns but the streets were
scarce. The women and children who'd been out earlier in the day
had gone back home for supper and the men now were in the taverns.
The only people he could see on the streets were drunks and women
in the alleys that would do anything for money. He was
gasping for air at this point. it was as if the oxygen he needed
was refusing to enter and fill his blood vessels and lungs. His
body shook from exhaustion and lack of food and water. He smelled
he acrid stench of alcohol mixed with something fouler he couldn't
quite put his finger on. As he stay on his knees facing the
ground covered in cobble stone he heard laughter. The sun was now
just a memory and the only light was leaking from the gaping
windows of the taverns and street lamps. He saw men and a few women
laughing and talking through the windows. Tears leaked from his
eyes, thinking of how happy they were and how dead and empty he
felt inside. Suddenly he heard the click of hooves very close
to his head. He gazed up to see a great shadowed figure standing
over him. It snorted and he propped up to sit on his knees to gaze
up at the mysterious creature. The creature lowered its long neck
and he saw it was a white horse. It's coat was caked with dried
blood and dirt, and it's nostrils flared at him. He slowly
stood and the horse raised its muzzle. He shrank back as he saw its
eyes; they were red and devoid of pupils. He backed up a bit at the
sight of this but the horse stepped closer. He suddenly heard
a voice that echoed through his skull, "How can they laugh and be
merry when she's dead?" it wasn't his thoughts, it was an
unfamiliar voice he didn't recognize. He looked over the horse's
shoulder at the tavern with its bright lights and happy atmosphere.
"Burn it to the ground," the voice said. He looked at the
horse inquisitively and it turned towards the tavern. Could it be?
He felt as if he was in a trance. He knew what he was doing
but even if he'd wanted to he wouldn't have been able to stop
himself. He stalked towards the back of the building where he knew
extra gas tanks would be. He picked up one and uncapped it. He
began drenching the building in it with a smile painted across his
lips. The sun was long gone but soon there would be a great light.
By the time he had finished he'd Gina around the building
twice using three gas tanks. He stood back from what would soon be
his masterpiece of destruction and reached into his pocket. He
pulled out a pack of matches and reached in and pulled one out. He
gazed and the red tipped piece of wood that would set the place
ablaze. He struck the match across the box and a flame danced
on the tip of the wooden strip. The horse stood just beside him.
"Do it." He threw the match and everything seemed to slow. The
flame flew through the air and hit the building. In that instant
fire spread across the entire structure at such a fast rate. One
moment it was in perfect condition and the next it was engulfed in
flames. He heard screams ring up to his ears and his smile grew.
He turned to the horse, but it was already gone. He saw
the doors being flung open but no one exited. The door had already
been set on fire and none would dare go through it. He saw a few
people spill out from where the back door was, yet mostly just
screams came from inside. People trapped in the burning building.
He heard no more merry laughter or jokes being made. Just screams.
After several hours of just standing and watching the building
burn and smoke he began to laugh. How ironic was it? His life had
been torn apart by a murderer and now he'd become one, and an
arsonist. He laughed and laughed until his sides began to hurt.
When he couldn't laugh anymore there were only simmering ambers
around the charcoal building. He could vaguely make out some body
parts, bones and charred blood. The open mouths of once screaming
skulls. He was shackled by the pleasure that consumed him.
They now knew his pain, and soon everyone would. Shamelessly he
turned from the scene a twisted smile painting his mouth.
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