Him (its a story)

“This world is a dirty place. Our cities are crumbling from years of neglect. The streets are choked with filth and death. If you ask me, it all reflects the darkness forming in the souls of what is left of the people living here. Clouds of black death blanket the sky, constantly threatening to rain down the pain and sorrow of the planet and its people. And when they do, like acid, the rain burns everything it touches, slowly corroding the planet and eating away at the people trying to live it.” I shake my head in despair and look at you, a young man no older than 10 and say, “This world is dying.”

“How did things get this way?” you ask.
“He appeared," I answer, "no one knows where He came from; no one even knows who he is or what he plans to do. All anyone knows is that he’s here, and he brings nothing but pain.”
“What about the heroes?” you say, “where did the heroes that once kept this world at peace go?” I look at you with sadness filling my heart.
“They are dead." I reply, "but they weren’t killed in battle, no; they weren’t given the honor of a glorious death, a warrior’s death. They never lost a single fight, never killed in any of the many brutal wars they fought in. None, except one. They lost to time. Although they were gods amongst men they could not live forever. In the end, they faded away. But He, He didn't. He still lives, strong as the day he got here. They couldn’t kill him, you see, he was too strong. The best they could ever do was keep him at bay. He isn’t from this world, he can’t be. And once our heroes became too weak and old to fend him off, he started to take over. He could have killed them I suppose, but that would have been too easy. He wanted them to suffer, to watch their world burn cause they were too weak to save. He destroyed everything in his path. Not killing, not much anyway, he left that to us. He just destroyed. He destroyed our governments, our societies, our hope. A very difficult and time consuming task made much much easier by the aid of some very powerful explosives. He left nothing, nothing but the people, scattered and alone.”

The look on your face doesn't change. Maybe you've already heard this story, maybe you don't care, or maybe this cruel world has robbed you of your sympathy.

“What about you?” you say, “where did you come from, where are you going?”
“Me?” I ask, “Well, I came from the west, that's where I live with my family. I have my parents, a little brother and a dog. My dog's name is Anji, you would like him, he’s an amazing dog. We don't feed him you know. We can't, we don't have the food, but somehow he survives. They’re all waiting for me to return. I’ve been gone for about two weeks now. It hasn't been an easy journey, mentally or physically. The journey is hard enough by itself, but all I see is death and pain, it just makes it that much harder. It starts to take a toll on you, ya know? And there’s barely any food or water anymore. Just making the journey is close to impossible. If only that were the worst of it. About five days ago I was robbed by bandits. I don't blame them; they’re just like the rest of us, people trying to survive, people doing whatever it takes to survive. They took all my food and water, not that I had that much of either, but they took what I had and left me there.” I chuckle to myself. “I actually thanked them for not killing me. Since there was nothing I could do, I kept moving forward, no food, no water. Nothing left to do but keep going. After three days I started to starve. I had found little bits of drinkable water here and there, but not a scrap of food for miles. Every once in a while I’d run into some people, or stumble across a house and I'd ask for food, beg for food, but no one ever had anything to spare. Then I found you. You definitely saved my life; I was at the end of my rope, mentally and physically, when I stumbled upon your house. You’d be amazed at how good stale bread and old cheese is after having nothing for 5 days…well, maybe not.”

“Where are you going?” you ask again, a question I was hoping you wouldn't repeat. “I’m going to see Him.” I say, and again your face betrays nothing. But I assume you want to know more, and continue. “I’m going to stop him. He is the root of all this pain and suffering. And I don't know about you but I’ve had enough. No one else is going to do anything, no one else ever will. I don't know what I’m going to do; I don't know how I’m going to stop him. They say he’s invincible, not even bullets can hurt him. And he has his own personal army, an army of degenerates, the lowest of the low. They might shoot me on the spot, not that I’d complain. But I have to do something, I have to try. I’ve had enough of the fear, and the pain, I’ve had enough of Him! I think we all have.”

“What are you going to kill him with? That?” you say, looking at the old sword at my side.
“Yes” I reply, knowing full well the absurdity of that statement. The idea of killing Him with an old, rusted, blunt sword that is difficult to even pull from its sheath is shear madness. But it’s all I have.

“My father gave this to me," I say, "he said it belonged to one of the old heroes. He never said which one, or how he got it. I don't know if he was family or a friend. Maybe it was all just a lie to give my brother and I some hope. Sometimes a fairytale or old story is all a child needs to get through a rough time, something better to believe in.”

Again you sit there unfazed. I can’t blame you; it is unimpressive, and unbelievable.
“You look tired” I say, “come on, let's put you to rest.” I take you to your bed, rags over dirt and rock. I do my best to make you comfortable; I even give you my jacket to help keep you warm, you look so cold.

With that, I leave.

It is only a two-day walk to His castle, and thankfully an uneventful one. His castle is something else; I could see that monstrous structure while I was still an entire day away. Like a large stone spike, it is the only thing I’ve seen pierce those black clouds in years. It is an awesome and completely terrifying sight. As I approach the front door I see two guards. I use that term very loosely, they are more like scarecrows with guns. They’re in worse shape than me. Their hair and teeth are falling out, nothing but skin and bones. Fear is probably the only thing keeping them there. This is his fearsome army of monsters. I used to think they were evil. I used to think they enjoyed what they did, sitting fat under His protection. I couldn't have been more wrong. I almost pity them…almost.

“I’m here to see Him,” I say. They look at me blankly for a few seconds, then one of them starts laughing. Well, it’s more of a rhythmic wheeze, but I’m pretty sure he is trying to laugh. “I’m here to see him,” I repeat to the one laughing, “let me in.” But he’s not listening, he just keeps laughing. I try again, but again, he refuses to listen.

I’ll just have to make him listen.

The other guard begins leading me through the castle. It’s huge inside. Big open hallways leading to equally massive rooms. But other than the half-dead soldiers, it’s completely empty, empty and cold. None of them look at me, none of them care. So I continue, unobstructed, until we reach what must be the center of this icy spike.

I see Him sitting on a large throne in the middle of the room, he’s a monster of a man. At least seven feet of solid muscle, his skin looks thick as leather and, aside from one scar on his face, is virtually untouched. Calling him fearsome would be a gross understatement.

I walk forward, looking straight into the eyes of that demon. I stand before him, a mere child in comparison, but I don't fear him.

“I'm here to kill you.”

He sits there for a while, completely baffled by what he just heard. The idea of a child coming speaking those words was so absurd I don't think he could even comprehend it. In his confusion he begins to laugh, a chuckle full of hatred and pain, it oozes from his mouth like tar. "Boy" he growls, but then he stops himself, his eyes drift downward and he notices the sword at my side. He stares at it for a moment while touching the long jagged scar running down his face.
“Where did you get that blade?” he asks.
“My father” I reply. He stares at my face, as if searching for something.
“I see,” He says rising from his throne, a massive spear in his left hand, “such a pity. you would have made an excellent soldier.”

Suddenly his left arm is a blur, everything goes black. I open my eyes and a throbbing pain shoots through the right side of my head. Looking at his position, I assume he just slammed that massive spear shaft against my skull. I look at him, blood dripping down the side of my head, shocked and confused.

“You didn't think I'd kill you that quickly did you? It's not everyday I get to play with such a lively toy.” He takes a step forward, his voice dropping a few tones. “I’m going to enjoy this.” I jump to my feet and draw my sword. Or I try to at least, its stuck. He got so much joy from seeing the panic shoot across my face, you’d think I was tickling him. I look around, frantically searching for a weapon, but there are none. It is me, him, a circle of his men and stone. I’m desperate, and out of options. I clench my fists and rush him. He stands there, drops his spear, and waits. I reach him and start punching. Right, left, right, but his body is like iron, my punches hurt me more as my knuckles bruise and the skin peels off. On my third punch he grabs the back of my neck with his left hand and drives his right into my gut. It feels like he’s going to break my back, I grab my midsection out of reflex, but also to make sure its still there. I can’t breathe. He lifts me into the air and holds me there for a few seconds, a few excruciating seconds, before letting go. As I fall I see his knee rising to meet me. Another devastating blow to my gut. I vomit a little, but its not food or water…just blood. I think I’m going to pass out. He bounces me off his knee and sends me flying into his men with a kick. I stagger to my feet, blood dripping from my head and mouth. I’m not sure how, I’m not breathing anymore, but somehow I get up. At my feet I see a gun, I hope it does more than my fists. I pick it up, take aim and fire. Several men behind him fall dead. I’m not a very good shot. I take a few steps forward, take a few ragged breaths, steady myself and try again, they hit. I keep shooting, but the bullets do nothing, one actually ricochets off the floor right next to me. He really is iron. Regardless, I continue shooting until I hear a dull click.

“Did you really think that was going to work?” he asks as he picks up his spear and begins walking towards me. “Why are you trying so hard? What drives you? You can’t kill me, but if you did, what do you think would change? This world can’t be saved, it’s far too late.”
“You're wrong.” The words tumble from my mouth as I continue gasping for air, “I know this isn’t going to fix anything, I know the world isn’t going to magically get better 'cause you're dead.” A small smile creeps across his lips.
“So this is for revenge, people you cared about have died because of me, yes?”
“Yes,” I reply, “but that isn’t why I’m here either. You have taken our hope. I’m just here to get it back.”
He looks at me, a very puzzled look on his face.
“You've lost your mind boy, this world will do that.”
“NO!” I yell, “I haven’t lost my mind! No one does anything because of you! No one hopes! No one dreams! No tries for a better life 'cause they all believe that once they get it you’ll tear it away! Because of you everyone is just waiting to die. But if I kill you, that hope might return. The people might start to dream again, they might start believing that things will get better and start working for that better world. When I kill you, the thought, the idea, the possibility that the world can heal will return.”
“When you kill me?” he repeats, "Do you have any idea of what I can do to you? Do you have any idea of the kind of hell I can put you through? It really is unfortunate, you would have made an excellent soldier, you’re strong.”
He approaches as if he has to do something he doesn't want to, or something he’s wanted to do for a very very long time.
“This is going to be very painful."
‘Painful’ he says. The word repeats itself in my mind for what feels like an eternity, I almost laugh.
“Pain? You want to show me pain? Can you even feel pain? Do you even know what pain is?! Can you feel the pain of your men?! Can you feel the pain of all the people dying and suffering just outside these walls!? Did you feel the pain of my family while they struggled to survive!? Did you feel the pain of that little boy alone in that cold dark house!? No, you didn't!”
He’s within striking range now, he’s beginning to raise his spear.
“…But I did, I’ve felt it, shared it, lived it. That pain has been my life! Let me show YOU what pain is!” As the last word slips past my lips, he thrusts his spear. At the same time, I draw my sword. It doesn't stick; in fact, it flies from the sheath with such speed and force I almost lose my grip. And the blade, it isn’t dull, or rusted or tarnished at all. It is clean and sharp, and it shines so bright. I cut the head of his spear clean off. I suppose my father was telling the truth.

However I don't really notice any of this, my focus is elsewhere. All I see is Him, and the surprised, terrified look on his face. As I bring the blade above my head it shines even brighter. A blinding white light shoots from its perfect edge. Everyone turns away, everyone but Him, He can’t take His eyes off my blade. I can only describe his expression as complete and utter fear. With a mighty cry I slash him across the chest, shoulder to hip. It doesn't go all the way through, but its deep, he won’t survive. A normal man would have died instantly, but He, He isn’t normal. He staggers and stumbles and falls to the ground, dying, slowly, and by the look on his face, very painfully.

His army begins to crowd around, but they do nothing. Beneath their stunned expressions I can see the relief in their eyes, they’re as happy as I am now that He is dead. And one by one they begin looking at me. At first I fear some form of retaliation, but after a few minutes, as more and more look up at me, I realize they aren’t staring out of hatred, they’re staring because they’re lost. Their master, the person who had told them exactly what to do for most if not all of their lives, is now dead. This army of monsters now looks like nothing more than a litter of lost puppies.
“You’re all free now,” I lie to them. I see now that the damage He did to them runs too deep, death is probably the only thing that will truly free them from his influence, or so I hope. “All of you, put down your guns, put down all your weapons.” They obey without a single word of protest.“Gather your things, if you have any, and wait for me outside.” And as one they begin to move. Most head straight for the exit, but a few others head into different rooms and different parts of this terrible structure. Me? I grab a straggler and have him show me to the armory. Its one floor down, hiding underneath it all, right under His throne in fact. I’ve been down here for about an hour; my new friend is a huge help in figuring out what to do with all this sleeping death. With our work done, we too make our exit. “Follow me,” I tell the waiting ‘army’, and again, as one, they follow. We’ve been walking for about an hour now, id say we’re a little over three miles from His castle. A blinding white light flashes followed by a deafening boom. Everyone stops and turns; they’re all looking at the castle, watching it fall into a pile of burning rubble. If I was looking at their faces, I’m sure many of them would be crying. But I’m not looking at them, I’m not even looking at the castle, I’m still walking. I didn't destroy that place for myself; I did it for them, for you, for everyone. They aren’t the only ones watching that castle fall, they aren’t the only ones with the thought “It's over” running through their heads or slipping silently through their lips. I did it, to drive home the point for the entire world that he is dead, and he isn’t coming back. Not long after, one of them notices that I’ve kept walking and begins to follow. One by one they break their gaze from what I’m sure is the most beautiful thing this world has seen for well over a decade, and begin, once again, to follow.

As we pass different little towns and establishments of people, I divide small groups from the army.
“You are to stay here and help rebuild what you destroyed. These people may hate you, they may abuse you, but you cannot stop until this town is rebuilt, and when it is, you are to move to the next and do it again. Ill be returning here to check on you soon, if you haven’t done as I have asked, and if, god forbid, you hurt another person, I will make you wish He was still alive.”

It's a hard task; do you think I’m cruel? Maybe you think I’m too nice, maybe you wish I had left them there in that castle to burn next to Him. Either way, I think this is the right choice. This will help start the healing; this world needs life now, not more death. This will help the people heal, but most of all this will help them heal. I decide not to stop at your house, I’m sure you're still sleeping. I continue to divide them up until there is no one left. For the final day I walk alone. I reach my house, nothing has changed really. It's still just as dirty and dark as the day I left it, but for some reason, everything looks a little brighter. Anji is the only one who comes to greet me; the rest of my family is probably still sleeping. Just like you, they’re sleeping and waiting for the world to get a little brighter.






I"m taking an ancient epic tales class, we are reading books like the odyssey and the Illiad. after reading a book we have to do some sort of essay about it. well, after reading the odyssey, we were given the option to write our own short 5 page epic instead of an essay. When i saw that option, a really old story i wrote came to mind, i actually posted it here, i wrote it when i got my masamune blade, its pretty old. either way, i pulled up the file and started to re-work it. needless to say this story is very different from the original. If you think this story is similar to or influenced by bj's writing, its not, it is actually a coincidence. i didnt think about his writing or even see a similarity until after bj and olivia had mentioned it.
But yeah, I'm planning on making this into a short comic, but i want to see if the story is any good before i start drawing. its still kinda a ruff, and some of the descriptions might be a little lacking because i plan on drawing this and cause im not that great a writer. but tell me what you think.