The gentle white snow falls peacefully. Kids play in the snow throwing compacted balls of snow. People visit houses to sing majestic songs of a fine tune. Others walking with smiles. A cute family building a pleasant snowman. He's jealous of the presence of it all, all calm and casual. Meanwhile visions of an unsanitary nature from the war in the troubled past now waging war within his mind. Visions of his small yet excruciating and traumatizing moments he had in hell come to haunt his stressed mind.
Neither hell or heaven loved spawn. Not the angels, not the demons, not Satan, and in his eyes certainly not God. God whom was the big man responsible for this whole pathetic mess. There was a war going on for the human soul, for his soul as well. He cut the long line for slaughter like hell that craved the violent impulses he was encased with. While his job application for heaven had tragically been declined at every turn. Now he simply did 'odd jobs', small jobs such as killing petty thugs, mobsters, hitmen, and drug dealers. His only form of promotion would be to break free from the two sides.
'Al And Wanda Forever' The wedding ring he tinkered with using his brawny fist, read. Fists made for gruesomely shredding of skin. Made for grabbing necks tightly for a satisfying up close and personal feel. Made for bludgeoning punches that could send a foe across a street. A fist now used to hold his last shred of humanity, to his pessimistic face. He closes his glowing green eyes, and lowers his head in misery and anguish that seemed hotter than the flames of hell, and at a higher point than the clouds of heaven.
The ring, it was a token of love that had died when he died. He kept it as close to him as his shadow was, as close as his darkest feelings were to him. The ring was on him like punctuation and grammar on a text book. And it could truly define his motivations and reasoning for the deal he made in hell. To come back… For his wife… He remained still, dead silent on the church's cross high above, while his cloak flapped dimly from the timid breeze. He was a cowboy, one that would face many showdowns, his trusted gun being his powers, and the horse being his will to push on, he would ride off into the sunset. One where it was unknown if it was going down to cast him in thick darkness as it lowered or up to brighten his world as it rose. His life was split between sin and righteousness. Spawn opens his eyes again to put it back on his dangerous finger. Spawn proceeded to squint so he could look from left to right at his surroundings. He was a rabid dog, one that looked from his window of pain out into the world of the living, ready for anyone to set foot on his domain so he could growl. Only he'd save them the bark, and would skip to the bite. He was an Egyptian slave, and his cold superiors were the dark ones from the furious pits of hell, and he was going to build them a pyramid made out of the bodies of all the other sinners.
Spawn drops down into the wretched alleyways that were oh so befitting to his stark and grim personality. He hovers out of the shadows to a group of 'useless bums' surrounding a fire bin. The fire is orange and glowed onto their torn coats, fingerless gloves, knit beanies, and hairy beards.
"Jesus! Al don't scare me like that!" One of them shouted feeling his heart racing. The warm sparking flames did little to abolish the vapor leaving their hungry mouths.
"If you think me walking up to you bums is scary than you haven't seen what I did to my last victim…" Spawn states in a gravelly voice, that intimidatingly came out almost as a growl.
"You can't just kill whoever gets in your way Al. You'll end up doing to it until you can't stop, until you wished you could go back and choose not to." The same homeless man said in a sympathetic voice. Spawn shook his head.
"Save the advice for the ones who actually give a damn." Spawn responded. Pattering was heard. All the homeless ones turned to face the shadows. Spawn got into a readied combat stance.
Spawn. The one who was the death of the sinners of the city. He was an omen darker than any raven. Once you saw him, you knew someone would be dead without a shred of denying doubt. The shadows were his tall grass, and the criminals were his prey. It was the circle of life that he'd kill, only he had already died. Haunted by the past he's unable to forget. NO MATTER HOW HARD HE TRIES. Negative memories all over him, they were the time and he was the alarm clock. He was set to go off to wake his enemies to the cruel reality that their deaths were near. The amount of blood he had on his hands were enough to feed a rabid vampire for centuries. He had inflicted so much death that he was considered a bed time story told to the criminals of the city. One that kept them up at night. Spawn was a bad diagnosis from the doctor, and every time the criminal patients heard the prognosis, they would be shot with deep horror, all knowing that they wouldn't make it… He H
"You should really learn to listen more." The voice said from the shadows, the sound getting louder as he got closer. Spawn crossed his arms. "Especially to the only friends you've got Hell Spawn…" The old man in a black coat, revealing himself into the orange circle of light. Spawn's face snarled beneath his gothic black mask.
"Why should I old man? No advice is gonna get me outta the hell I'm in." Spawn retorted in a annoyed sound. The old man pet his long white beard. The fire glistened in the glossy reflection of his eyes. The homeless all looked on curious and rightfully confused.
"Is that so? The things you're doing now is what will land you back in Hell." The old man started. Al's eyes displayed his unamused frustration at the condescending comment, but he decided to listen on. He was a bit paranoid on how this old man knew of his origin. "You can't control what goes on in these alleys, in this city. The more you fight the worse everyone in this alley, the worse everyone you care for, and the worse everyone else will have to deal with. Hell is craving the souls of the wicked and you're feeding them well Spawn." The old man explained. Spawn chuckled to himself.
"The only thing I'm feeding these days is the need to kill." Spawn responded in a arrogant way. The homeless were looking back and forth at the two.
"FOOL! Like every Spawn before you, you rely on your impulsivity to kill, your basic instincts from the battles you've faced in the previous life. The same actions that led to hell choosing you in the first place…" The old man stated. Spawn's tilted his head. This old man sure knew a lot.
"Then what the hell am I supposed to do then old man? Lie down and die? I'm stuck dealing with heaven and hell's proxy wars! I CAN'T EVEN KILL MYSELF! I've tried ending it all old man… And every time I fail. I'm a drummer, and the scum that approach me are my drums, and my craving for their lives is the drum sticks. I never miss a beat because I enjoy turning them into worm food. And the only people who seem to want an encore is heaven and hell." Spawn ranted negatively with both godly rage, and sorrowful pain in his troubled voice. He removed his mask revealing his charred and decayed face with nasty maggots swirling around the burnt flesh. The old man shook his head.
"You can start by not killing, but wounding instead foolish Spawn. Killing will only make your superiors in hell stronger, and it'll give them more subordinates. And the only way to end it all is by choosing the right path. You must, many souls depend on you making the right decision, the choice that will be the hardest, but the choice that will save us all." The old man revealed wisely with a much more easier on the ears sounding tone.
Spawn turned around slowly. He left them to their vices. His newly forged hellish body. It was more deadly than a warehouse of guns. And his powers gave him infinite ammo. It was far too late to switch to non-lethal rounds when his sole purpose in his new life was to kill. Him and death. They were a couple that married in hell. Divorce was no longer an option. Him and death. They were more synonymous than hell and fire. He was a hard worker for hell, the wondrous union of heaven didn't seem liable at the moment, and he knew the easiest option would be to just work overtime. If so he'd be employee of the month, every month. He'd be paid in full by hell fire at the end of it all…
He remained at the edge of the alley's exit within the shadows. There were some measly gangsters before him across the street. He was in no mood for pointless violence. Most of the parked cars were lusciously enveloped by snow.
"Wanda… I came back for you… If I have to protect you by changing… Then I must." Spawn whispered in a weeping whisper. He looked forward seeing a little kid walking on by.
"Please guys, I need this money for my mom's hospital bill." The kid stated. The devious sinful men smirked, grinned, or lightly chuckled.
"Sorry, Tommy I need the money to run these blocks. What'd ya say? I'd only take a small fraction of the cash." The leader De'Marko stated. Spawn's green eyes glowed brightly within the dark.
"No! My mom needs it for her hospital bill, she's dying please! I can barely afford it" The kid stated being surrounded on both sides of the snow covered block. Tears streamed down his distraught eyes. The men seemed hesitant but knew what they had to do. Or at least thought what they had to do.
"C'mon kid ya gonna make me feel bad, I'll only take a little bit." De-Marko responded sympathetically.
"…Let the boy go…" Spawn said now in the middle of the street in a harsh, tough, and threatening growl. Spawn was in a dark crimson red cloak, he wore a black mask with white imprints on the eyes, had red claws with spiked brass knuckles. He was a horrifying sight that often turned black blending in with the shadows. Where he belonged.
"OH SHIT!"
"WHAT THE HELL IS THAT!"
"FUCKIN SHOOT EM!"
An Uzi was pulled out, within that split second chains shot out from Spawns belt. He grunted as he was shot bullet holes with green wounds and blood trickling out. The chains had finally pulled a goon over to shield him from the bullets. !RATATATATATAT! Flickering light that made the 'scum's' body ripple and contort violently. The head drooped downward. Spawn then grabbed one by the neck, his cloak extended out wrapping around another's leg dragging him while Spawn squeezed the first man's neck so powerfully until a crunch was heard. The body flopped onto the ground making a wet squish sound on the snow. A gun was pressed again his head and Spawn twisted grabbing the forearm, he jerked it and a brutal snap was heard. The bone had popped out morbidly. A plethora blood splashed onto the snow making soft wet noises as it hit the snow. Grabbing the pistol he shot another who ran missing a few shots but the last hitting the man's leg sparring him. The man who had been dragged finally got to Spawn leaving a deep grey trail in the white snow. Spawn picked him up and smashed the head into a car window shattering it, removing the head from the blood stained glass he threw it across the street. The body hit a trash can tumbling it. He too was still alive, yet greatly wounded. Spawn turned to face the two inactive ones.
"You're lucky I'm trying to change. Get the hell outta my block or else I'll let you run the scorching hot ones in hell. Ones where your pain will run the blocks, not money." Spawn warned cruelly. De'Marko ran the fastest he had ever sped in his life. The boy stood frozen. Spawn's eyes turned heavy a pained.
"It's ok. I'm not gonna hurt you." Spawn stated warmly. He didn't approve of God's bastard like mysterious ways. The boy slightly opened his mouth then closes it. He tried easily speaking but he sadly couldn't. Spawn knelt down beside the child.
"These men won't bother you ever again." Spawn added.
"T-the-than-thank you." The boy said meekly with eyes of horror. Spawn raised his palm, the wedding ring reflected the moon's light. Spawn removed it and brought it to the kid's attention.
"Here… I don't… I don't need that anymore. You can sell it for the hospital bills." Spawn said in an affectionate voice. The kid left promptly. He stopped at the end of the street to look Spawn once more. And smiled.
!DONG! … !DONG! … !DONG! … !DONG! ….
The church bells were violent.
"HAHAHAHAHAHA YOU ACTUALLY DID IT!" Cruel laughter from the old man from before sounded.
"No…" Distrust fills his dark soul. "NO!" Spawn yelled. He zoomed to the church and climbed it ruthlessly until he made it to the top in seconds. "He fooled me! Made me give up my last bits of humanity!" Spawn roared. "HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" The voice echoed. "He's laughing at me!" Spawn yelled before he fell through the church's roof and landed onto the ground briskly. He coughed out as the laughing continued. He saw Jesus staring at him from the front of the church. The church was abandoned, worn down with cobwebs, dust, missing floors, partially broken statues. Spawn looked at the reflection of himself in a puddle beside him. His face… It was healed. His jaw rightfully dropped.
"You regained your humanity. After years of trying to guide Hell Spawns to the path of good you've finally done it. You gave up the impulsive love you had for Wanda, the love you made a deal for. You gave up the one thing that brought you semblances of closure. For a boy you didn't know. Hahaha, I could cry right now." The old man explained. Spawn picked himself off the ground.
"Thank you old man…" Spawn said shyly. The old man chuckled again.
"It doesn't end here. There's still a long way to go. But for now you've finally won one against hell." The old man informed cheerfully.
"It was hard giving up the ring to be honest. If I was truly good I would've given it to him faster." Spawn admitted partially embarrassed. The old man nodded.
"The path of right choices are the hardest choices like I said. That's what make them the most powerful and most important one." The old man replied with a wide smile. Spawn carried a faint smile.
"Thanks." Spawn said letting go of his macho attitude and hugging the old man.
Spawn stopped grateutious killing. There would be many battles in the future. But none of them would be as bleak as the ones prior. Spawn went on to do more good deeds. And he learned from that day, he learned that the hardest choices. The right choices. Were the ones that benefited others… It was unknown to this day whether he found solace in the paradise of heaven, or suffering in the morbid graces of hell. But one thing was known for sure. The man had changed…
Spawn looked at the rainbow in the distance spread out across the horizon. The sunset beaming its light onto the waves. The soothing sound of water splashing onto the shore. For the first time in a long time he wasn't monstrously raging in fumes. For the first time in a long time he wasn't furiously tormented by anguish. For the first time in a long time…
He Felt Human
Spawn: He Felt Human