A Fly Trapped in Amber

Sorry for the late updates, school is getting in the way.

My Obeisance was a curious thing; many PANDORA scientists question how a Contractor is aware of his Obeisance. My answer is this; Contractor's are hunters, and hunters know how to survive. They are not taught this; it is a primal instinct that occurs as naturally as tears and laughter do to humans.

Oh the infinity of summer! Nights spent in the heat, planning of murder. So much life put into the idea of death. My 'plans' took the form of idealistic dreamings, that were either crushed with the hammer of reality, or flew away like golden butterflies into the realm of imagination. The day was for dreaming, and the night was for killing. My victim's had evolved from dolls, to inanimate objects, to fireflies trapped in jars, to dolls, and then to inanimate objects again. And finally, the infinity was over.

After forever ended, I was ready. My old life was going to end, one way or another. The day was a burning autumn day, where leaves danced in the air. The date was irrelevant. My mother had used the excuse of work to leave me home. She, in her own way, killed herself. I touched the house, feeling the golden colour of power, stain the wall. It was beauty. Soon the house glowed, a testament to my power. I armed myself with a thermos of mil, a satchel of food, clothes, and was preparing to disappear, when a question knocked me off balance.

Why? It was not rational. I could stay here, with food, water, shelter. It was not a rational choice, for at that moment I was not a rational Contractor.

I was Maki, scared and screaming with broken dishes around him-

No! I am a Contractor, part of a new race-

But I am innocent Maki; I am a Christmas boy-

I am a killer, I am a thorn-

I am a killer-

I am Maki-

I am a killer-

Maki is a killer.

I smiled.

Maki is a killer.

The reports call it a faulty gas pipe. You dear reader, are burdened with my secret. Can you feel it, weighing you down? That is the weight of my life. She was killed instantly, but I had to suffer the agony of living. It was as if all the stars in the sky had exploded; my cosmos was reeling, trying to keep together. I remember burning ash on my Christmas hair, smoke in my eyes, and for a delusional moment, I saw my father, but he was gone with the smoke. I ran, with the smoke of my old life in my lungs.