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Death before dishonour

Short story By: HenryJD
Horror


Just a little story from my dark side. Enjoy...or not


Submitted:Apr 2, 2013    Reads: 60    Comments: 1    Likes: 1   


She was cheating on me. Don't ask me how I know; people lile me always find out, we spot those little inconsistencies, tear holes in the fabric of those lies people like my wife make to try reason. My name is Alex, and right now I'm thinking of disappearing. Its not like i have much to lose, now is it? Years of aikido have slowly changed me, the constant exercise and muscle training strengthening everything about me.
It was this which fist clued me in on her cheating, an early exit from the small gym where I trained, I saw her kissing another man, dead on the lips in some cafe.
Was I pissed off? Of course!! Every cell in my body screamed at me to go over and kick the daylights out of the smarmy bastard in a $100 suit, hell, I could do that easily, even at my age (44 years young).
But, no. I swallowed my anger, took out my phone and atarted taking pictures by the hundreds.
Not enough I thought, remembering all those stories I'd read, how the guy thinks ge has enough and turns out needing more. Moving in a circular fashion, I got close and switched on the phones video, recording them both from close.
"...so what do you want to do now?" Melissa, my soon to be ex wife said.
"Hmm, how 'bout you?" The smarmy bastard replied, setting my blood alight and forcing me to put my empty hand onto the table, my fingers digging into the metal slowly as the anger overwhelmed my self control.
"Stop it, don't talk so loud!" Melissa said, giggling. "Besides, you remember how close we were to getting caught last time?"
"The danger just makes it better," the smarmy bastard breathed. "And besides, who's going to tell, the drunkard?" He said referring to the man with his head laying face down on the table, a pint of Guinness half drank on the table next to him.
"D...'fore...'onor" the drunk muttered, seeming in reply.
My fingers broke through the table, causing nearly every head to turn in my direction, but I was already walking away, my vision red.
--
When Melissa heard the snap, she froze, the blood in her face draining as she slowly turned.
"Who the fuck was that guy," Michael said, before seeing the state of Melissa. "Shit. You dont mean..." he trailed off as he looked at the hand mark on the steel table.
"Alex" Melissa croaked. "You need to go, quickly."
"What do you mean? He saw me and ran," michael said. Stopping at the look of pained amusement on her face.
"He left because if he didn't, he would have killed you, and believe me, he could do it without breaking a sweat. He left because he didn't want to get anyone else involved."
Michael didn't like the sound of what she was saying, he was the bigger guy, he could stomp Melissa's small husband, easily!
He left the small cafe alone, despite Melissa's ardent warnings walking straight towards his house, yet he could feel...something. Something was watching him. Almost imperceptibly he increased his pace, slipping into the small alleyway which would leave him right outside his front door.
The sound of footsteps behind him made him freeze, and he slowly turned around. "Shit," he whispered,looking at the man covered in black. All he could see were his glasses, glowing a deep red, and a short sword, the blade crackling with malevolent energy.
"Stay back, you bastard. STAY BACK!!!" His eyes were looking for escape, unwilling to show his back to the vision of death in front of him.
In reply, the sword wielding apparition said three words.
"Death before dishonour."
The eyes faded, the beings entire body merging with the dark, and Michael let out a scream of terror as the blade flashed through the darkness, slicing cleanly through his clothes and digging lightly into his muscle. Spinning, Michael tried to run, only to fall to the ground as two more slices bit into his hamstrings. The patterns of the cut became more frequent, appearing everywhere, no matter what he did, covering his face, rolling on the ground, curling into a ball. A final cut ended the agony he'd been in, the apparition appearing and letting the blood pooling on ths blade drip on the dead mans terror-struck face, leaving a true mask of bloody pain. Sheathing the sword, the apparition slowly faded, his body swaying slightly until he truly disappeared on the breeze, swept away back into the pattern of the world.




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