Disclaimer. ...don't sue me for creating such a suckish drabble.
Baseball Idiot
Baseball Idiot.
That is what he called him. And the name stuck.
Baseball Idiot.
He did like baseball and he was an idiot. After all, it had taken him nine years to figure out why the storm raged whenever he was in sight or how the storm insulted him so.
Natural assassin.
Maybe his friend didn't want him to face that future; the future and present he already knew – of death and killing. But he was anatural and that was all the baby needed to know.
Mafia.
He wasn't really forced into it, nor had he joined by invitation. He was just there, family, a friend, all he wanted to do was protect. But it was the mafia. He wouldn't protect. He would kill. After all, he was a natural-born assassin.
Weakness.
Being an idiot, though he knew his weaknesses, he never really cared much for them. 'To protect my friends,' he would say, is all the reason he needed to step in front and block or attack.
Corner.
And from that one main weakness, his kind heart and his utter stupidity and his utter obliviousness, he was cornered. He didn't care though, since his family was safe and sound. All he had to do was eliminate his antagonist.
Blood.
He could feel it flowing out his body, the storm raging as if it were to destroy everything in its path, the thunderous shouts...fading...fading away.
Wood.
He felt warm in this wooden confinement, despite his being so cold. He could hear nothing except his own footsteps as he walked aimlessly through the darkness.
Water.
The tapping annoyed him. His followed the sound, only to find out it was everywhere above him. The tapping went on but nothing fell on his face. The dark ground around him was stale and dry.
Light.
Then he saw a light. Outside he could see tiny little droplets falling from the sky. Over to his left, he could see the storm, silent, as if it would burst at anytime. After all, he could see smoke rising from it. He smiled bitterly. He longed to hear the storm rage again, to make him laugh, to make him smile. But it was silent. Despite his silent screams for the storm to rage again, all was silent.
Rain.
The tapping stopped and the sun came out. People were leaving quietly and mournfully. He looked at his friend who still stood there, still and unmoving. He wasn't facing him and smoke was still rising in plumes. He waited. Waited for a miracle that could never be accomplished. He waited some more.
Then the rain started.
I hope you got that...-.-''''''
