It was raining that day. He would always remember all the little details about that day, how it was raining, how the high temperature was 68, how the rain turned into blood on face and in his hands. He ran one of his battle-worn hands through his medium long black haired, hair that dangled in front of his odd red eyes with purple-hued bags under his eyes, eyes that had loosed too many tears on his face since that day.
He was walking down Main Street in New York City, when it loomed overhead. He knew at once what it was. A demon. IT was made from the shadows of hearts, its arteries was filled with human despair, its heart fueled by human pain, it towered a good 20 feet tall, and laughing at the destruction it had caused. The metro-bus that had just run over its foot was in flames, the bus where his wife had just been riding home from Minneapolis from a business trip. The demons' laugh shook the bus stop where he was. When silent tears poured their way down his face like bombs, for when they dripped off his chin, his fist clenched and trembled in rage, a pounding broke through his skull and he looked up to see the abomination lumbering towards him, he impish mouth curled upwards in a smile, for he was about to eat lunch out of the black-clad man, wearing a black trench coat with black pants and his black hair.
With a roar, the demon lunged a fist at him, but was surprised when he leapt up onto the hand and ran up his arm and delivered a hate-filled upper-cut to the demons jaw, where the demon rocked back on his heels, but the man kept going with the momentum of the punch by back-flipping in front of the beast, and lunged forward and punched the demon in the stomach, winded the demon. The black man slowly backed way with his fists raised and in a fighting position.
With an angry roar that shook the foundations of Hell itself he left forward, belching fire as he ran, but the man calmly relaxed, and raised his hand in a voice that was confidence, that was human compassion, that was creation, a voice befitting God himself he said, "You shall hurt no one else!" and He cocked his arm slightly and jabbed it forward, making a blast that shook the demon, and his blood of despair drained away, his heart stop beating, and he simply collapsed into the shadows.
But the blast shook the buildings behind the demon and they shook, and shook, and the man realized what he had done, and cried out "NO!" but that helped none, and the buildings collapsed all around him, the entire city, collapsing, just like the hearts of men today are collapsing, weighted down by hate and jealously, angry at one mans' attempt at survival. This mans' name was Brent.