DISCLAIMER: I do not own Harry Potter.
Quidditch Pitch: "Like Toy Soldiers" by Eminem
Drabble Club: shadow (word)
200 Characters in 200 Days: Walden Macnair
Emotion Challenge: Guilty
Greek Mythology Category Competition: Erebus: Write about a Death Eater.
Challenge Your Versatility: Walden Macnair (character)
Hansel and Gretel: Write about abandonment.
He lifts the ax, and, with a resounding whoosh, brings it down on the creature's neck.
He lets a cold grin creep onto his lips; he has to, for the sake of his mask.
His mask is one of his most precious possessions, even though he knows it shouldn't be.
She wouldn't approve.
No, she would shake her little head at him and stick out her bottom lip in a pout and say," No, Waldy!"
Pity she wasn't around to still do that.
He stares at the creature's head, eyes blank, as it rolls to his feet, blood pooling around his boots.
He should feel the thrill, the feeling that he has appeased his thirst for revenge—but he doesn't.
It is never enough.
Step by step, heart to heart, left right left
We all fall down like toy soldiers
Bit by bit, torn apart, we never win
But the battle wages on for toy soldiers
"Waldy!" a petulant voice calls. "I want to play!"
"I'm busy, Clara," Walden says, sighing. But he gets up anyway.
"Play! Play!" Clara chants, bottom lip stuck out in a pout. She wraps her arms around his legs, refusing to let go.
"Fine." Clara's face is lit up by a wide grin. "But only for a while."
"Yay!" She grabs his hand, and he lets her pull him along as she skips outside. "I want to go to the meadow!"
"We went there this morning," Walden says, giving her an exasperated look. "Somewhere else?"
"No! Meadow!" Clara says, pouting. She stomps her little foot. She offers him her trademark puppy eyes.
Walden breaks. "Fine, I guess we can go to the meadow… again."
"Yay!" she cheers, the pout almost immediately disappearing. She takes his hand again and starts to skip along the path to the meadow.
Walden glances up at the sun, noting that it has sunk just a tiny bit in the blue sky. "It'll get dark soon, so we won't stay for long."
Clara nods, still smiling.
Soon enough, their legs are blanketed in tall blades of grass. Walden wonders how Clara can see the nearly invisible flowers that dot the meadow.
"Catch me if you can!" she squeals, running away. Her little legs carry her around the meadow in fast circles, leaving Walden out of breath as he chases her relentlessly. Of course, he is only pretending that he is slower, but Clara will never know that.
Finally, he slumps down to the ground, shooting a glance at the sky. The sun has almost disappeared, and the sky is only a sea of shades of brilliant red.
"Time to go, Clara!" he says, catching a glimpse of her as she runs past. Her baby pink dress flutters in the wind. She finally stops beside him, dropping to her knees.
"I don't want to." She crosses her arms over her chest, pouting. "I want to play!"
"That's enough, Clara," Walden says, reaching out for her. She shoots up and runs away.
"No!" she yells.
"Clara! Come back!" he calls after her, wiping beads of sweat off his forehead. He stands up and looks around for the familiar blur of dark brown hair.
He sees her at the edge of the meadow, walking along the long line of trees that mark the start of the forest.
"Clara!" he yells, starting to run. He sees a flicker of gleaming yellow behind the dark green of the bushes that weave their way across the trees.
He reaches out a hand to pull her back as he skids to a stop behind her. She dodges, a laugh escaping her lips.
"You can't catch me!" she says in a singsong voice. She dodges yet another attempt from him.
Walden sees a blur of grey as a creature leaps out from behind the trees, jaws open in a feral grin.
He watches, frozen, as the creature tackles Clara to the ground, plunging its claws into her arm. A scream breaks out from Clara's mouth as tears run down her cheeks in a furious torrent. It jolts him into action.
"Clara!" he screams. He runs toward her, but he is too late.
The creature rakes its claws across her chest, and blood begins to pool on her dress. Walden reaches down and pulls a knife from his boot. He dashes toward the creature, plunging the knife into its side, drawing a shrill shriek.
"Go!" he yells, waving the knife. The creature turns on him, black eyes narrowed. Walden cuts it again, and the blood drawn from it mingles with Clara's.
Clara.
He waves the knife at the creature one last time, and it turns and runs back into the forest with a limp.
Walden sinks to his knees, staring at Clara's shaking figure in dumbstruck horror. He reaches out and brushes a strand of dark brown hair away from her face. Her gaze is fixed on him, brown eyes clouded with tears, lips trembling in silent words.
"Wa… Waldy," she whispers, reaching for his hand with bloody fingers. "Waldy…"
"Clara, you'll live. I'll take you home. We can fix this," Walden says, lifting her into his arms. He doesn't notice the blood seeping onto his robes, staining them a dark crimson.
"Waldy…" she says, tugging on his arm. "I don't want to leave…"
"You're not going to leave, Clara. I… I won't let you." A strangled sob escapes his lips.
"It… it hurts." Another tear slips out from her eyes.
"I know, Clara, I know," he says, his voice plagued with desperation. He runs faster.
"Waldy…" her voice pulls him from his thoughts. "I think… I think I'm going to leave now."
"No! Clara, hold on! Just a… just a few more seconds. Hold on, please, Clara." Tears are now flowing down his face, dropping onto Clara's face.
Her blue eyes are dimming.
"No!" he screams, feet pounding on the ground.
"Waldy…." she whispers. "Bye-bye, Waldy."
The light in her eyes is gone. Forever.
"Clara," he says, dropping to his knees.
Her body is limp and unmoving in his arms.
He will never hear her laugh. Never see her smile.
"No!" he screams, letting his cries out. His sobs ring out in the empty meadow. "NO!"
Clara has left him.
She has abandoned him.
"Stop," he tells himself, holding the tears back. He walks away, dropping the ax. He ignores the calls to come back and Apparates.
He has killed so many creatures, each with the hope that with it will come satisfaction.
But it never does.
It will never be enough. The guilt will never go away.
Nothing will take away the hollow feeling of abandonment.
Nothing.
Step by step, heart to heart, left right left
We all fall down like toy soldiers
Bit by bit, torn apart, we never win
But the battle wages on for toy soldiers
But he has to try.
Maybe, just maybe, one day, the shadow of abandonment will leave him.
