Short Story

Jet black crows circled crimson fields that stretched for miles. The sky appeared as though it had been dyed red, and the countryside was littered with flesh and bone. Blood soaked weapons lay clutched in the hands of mutilated corpses, and all living men that had once gathered there were no longer of this world. Their last moments still lingered like an after image, dead cries echoed throughout the meadow.

'Monster!'

'Demon!'

'God have Mercy!'

Amongst the never ending bloodbath lay a child no older than seven. His straw coloured hair was mattered with blood, and black eyes stared emotionlessly at the scene before him. He was simply clad in sandals and peasant clothes, and radiated a morbid childlike innocence. Fingers twitched as blood dripped to the ground from the gash on his shoulder, and the river of red running down his arm didn't faze him at all. It was impossible to comprehend how such a child could have lived through the battle that had consumed the lives of the fallen men. But he was there, and apart from the giant tear in his shoulder he was completely unharmed. With a hiss the only wound he had healed and closed over, appearing as though it had never been touched. He swung his arm to test the limb, and when pleased that it was functioning properly he began to walk.

People stared at the blood stained child with pity as he made his way through the crowded city, but no one made an attempt to help. In this time of war it was hard enough to look out for your own kind, and starving orphaned children were left to rot.

With eyes downcast he wandered like a lost soul through the rowdy market place, attracting very little attention. Unavoidably he bumped into a burly man five times his size, he moved to get around the adult, but the man grabbed his shoulder roughly. "You dare to run into me like that you brat? Do you have no respect for your elders? I hate little boys like you," the man growled.

Instead of struggling to get away he relaxed under the strong man's grip and stared at his feet. The man growled at the child's submission and continued.

"No only that, you reek of blood, you vile and filthy thing."

Slowly the child raised his head and stared into the eyes of the adult. The man's breath became caught in his throat as he felt his courage begin to crumble. He drew his hand back in disbelief and fell backwards into the dirty street, trembling all over with shock. Instead of the emotionless black orbs he had seen moments before, the child's eyes had turned a frightening crimson red. It was as though a black void had been filled with the reddest of blood. It's a trick, he told himself, a nasty childish prank. But no matter how many times he told himself that, he could not deny that those eyes screamed out for more blood to fill them.

Slowly the child lowered his head and continued on his way, leaving the man to let out a sigh of relief.

The stone structure towered above him and into the heavens, symbolising wealth and power. It was by far the largest building for miles, and it lay at the very heart of the city. It was the residence of the country's lord. Children his age would have stared with amazement and awe, but he saw it as nothing. Without fear or emotion he approached the giant door that was the entrance, dragging his feet while doing so.

One of the two door guards was lethargically leaning against the wall and picking the dirt out of his nails, obviously seeing the child as very little danger. "Go home brat," he muttered lazily. "You don't belong here."

"He's bleeding," commented the second.

"Bleeding, not bleeding, how does it matter?" the first muttered. The guard picked up the pole he had previously discarded and began to poke the child with it. "Shoo you."

"Let him be."

The first guard ignored the second, and began jabbing the child in the shoulder. "Off with you, go home brat."

"Let him be!"

Neither man had time to scream as they felt themselves being ripped apart by a force unknown to man. Giant claw marks slashed into the impenetrable wall behind them, and crimson blood splattered from unhealable wounds. Survival was impossible and both were dead before they hit the ground, bodies torn to pieces.

Fresh blood dripped from the body of the child, yet his hollow expression implied that he couldn't even feel it upon his skin. He was unfazed by the mass of blood and bone that was once two men, and treated it as though it were a sight he saw daily. The giant entrance door that the guards had given their lives to protect creaked and swung open, and with the same calm eeriness about him, the child entered.

The country's lord sat upon his seat of power, commanding all those around him. He was neither young nor old, hansom nor ugly, but could be described as foolish and reckless. The sight of a blood stained child among his court of soldiers and entertains didn't faze him, but he would have preferred the brat out of sight. The filthy child lay at the far end of the room, rubbing the backs of his arms innocently, and it was a mystery as to how he got in at all. The lord turned his head to request the brat's removal, only to turn back and see the child directly before him.

"It was you," the child murmured, his eyes were downcast and face hidden.

For reasons unknown to him the Lord couldn't help but let out a laugh. "Brat, I don't know what brings you to my court, but get out my sight, a child like you does not belong here, go home."

The child ignored his words. "It was you who sent those men."

"You speak nonsense brat," with the wave of his hand the lord summoned for the child's removal.

"You must be fool……… if you thought five hundred men would get rid of me."

The lord froze, his insides turning cold. No, there was no way in hell. The monster he sent men to exterminate and the child before him could not be the same. "Remove him!" he demanded more forcefully.

The child let out a low and ominous laugh, causing the entire room to fall silent and stare. He raised his head to unveil a set of blood red eyes and pointed fangs, everyone gazed in fear as small pink nails transformed into deadly bone white claws. With one lethal swipe of the air the man who was attempting to remove him was slashed to pieces, blood splattered across the wall in the shape of a claw. It was no longer possible to view it as a child; it was a monster that lived only for blood and revenge, and its killing intent was sensed by all. The lord gritted his teeth and stood out of his chair. "Kill it," he screamed.

With a battle cry every man in the room pulled out his weapon and began to advance, determination and loyalty to the lord hid their fear. With ease and grace the child took out half of them, drenching the room in red. Men fell back in shock as they tried to stop the bleeding from their unhealable wounds.

"Devil!"

"Monster!"

"Go back to hell!"

The child lurched and chocked as a sword was shoved through his chest, spraying his own blood amongst his victims. He turned and slashed at the one who dealt him the blow, coughing up more blood while doing so. Another half dead man took the opportunity to shove a dagged through its thigh, causing the demon to fall onto its knees. The lord in his seat of power smirked, so it could be hurt after all, the army he sent before must have been incompetent. He waved his hand and gave the signal to finish it off, smiling while doing so.

The demon began to shake as it let out a menacing laugh that shattered the confidence of the men. Without even cringing in pain it ripped the dagger out of its leg and pelted it into the heart of the closest person, pinning them to the wall. Men stared in awe as the wound instantly hissed and healed, their efforts obviously wasted. With the same ease he removed the sword and let it clatter onto the floor. "No, what…how……why….." moaned one man in disbelief. The demon closed his eyes and sighed, he had already had enough of this battle. With one giant swipe into the air, all the remaining men were thrown back and ripped in half by a force that didn't even touch them.

The lord groaned as he felt every inch of his body tremble in fear. This could not be, this simply could not be. With inhuman like speed the child approached, appearing only as a blur. The lord made no attempt to move, he accepted his fate and the punishment that was soon going to be dealt to him. The demon appeared in his sight once again just before it drove its clawed hand though the lord's chest, and gripped the man's heart. With one fluid motion it ripped out the organ and tossed it aside as though it meant nothing, watching as the lord convulsed in pain and fell forward, obviously dead.

The room feel silent as the last dying men passed on to the next world. The monster that had taken their lives reverted into the image of a child once more; his black eyes stared emotionlessly at the room before him, as he had done with the previous battle. He kicked at the foolish body of the once lord, the man who had tried twice to kill him and failed. And without emotion or expression he left the room.