Revenge

A world of fear created by someone wanting revenge. Does it sound fair?
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4. Delilah

Delilah was a young, bright child with a mind set of wonders. But bright minds can sometimes be altered, like with the death of a relative, preferably a mother.

This is what Delilah Lawson lived through all her eighteen years of life, hate…betrayal and a strong belief in revenge.

The moment her foot hit foreign land, was the day blood will be shed. Hopefully not her own.

The town square was ominous when the town clock struck midnight. Every soul was in their beds, except for one. Her crouching body and fast movements could be mistaken for a tiger hunting its prey. This prey shared the same blood as the predators.

Delilah’s foot slipped on the cobbled pavement, as she made her way down the narrow alley towards his house. Peoples belongings scattered the floor as if in a hurry, from what though. Delilah herself? Like a bird did they recognise danger, someone who is bloodthirsty for one of their own?

Each step, made Delilah’s blood bubble. One more and she would be there, in front of his house, where once upon time a young maiden would be there with her bouncing young child.

What noise would he make, when the dagger reaches his throat? A gurgle or one long sigh of relief? Finally, his pain and guilt split open and spread onto the linen sheet.

Will she make a noise? The woman who ruined it all, who stole a heart to gain another. She may make no noise, as if she still has the upper hand of the maiden…of Delilah herself.

Are there children? Shall she kill them or let them start their own jealous families?

It stood, as if it knew Delilah was there, strong and ready for a fight.

‘Does every god damn living and animate object know what I am doing?’ She spoke allowed, a chorus of dogs replied to her in unison.

Testing each step was like a code breaker, trying to receive the gold. A creak here, a groan there the building was never silent. It tried to tell the whole village ‘INTRUDER, INTRUDER’ but in fact all it told the village was ‘CREAK, CREAK.’

Delilah’s imagination was going wild, what if something jumps out at her dragging her into its layer. Will it be he in fact, who finds her knife poised and ready to kill the demon? Or will it be one of the children maybe even both, heading to the bathroom (which was just a few metres away from her stooped body) even going for a midnight snack. No, she can’t let anything or anyone see her. This mission could be her last; she needs to make it memorable just like her mother wanted.

‘Your mummy is a bitch, my mummy told me that. She said your mummy tried to kill you and your daddy. But in the end she killed herself!’ Another snotty kid said to me, this was the last straw. Every day I get tortured by the others because of my past. Not for long though.

‘I don’t care what your mummy said, she is probably…wait actually is a bitch. Including you!’

This is when I pushed her to the ground, I didn’t mean to she was being horrible to me but I had to do it, and when I saw her cut leg and bloody nose it made me laugh. For some deranged reason.

It’s not my fault though, it never will be it is his fault and he just dragged me and my poor mamma into it. I bet though my mamma is watching down and laughing along with me, you see we have a connection. I can hear her in my head, talking to me telling me what to do. She was the one who give me the idea of giving the stupid girl a bloody nose. I heard a slight giggle as she hit the ground.

I will never be alone, mamma tells me that. She also has giving me the task of finishing of him and his selfish family.

He will die for my mamma, and no one will know who killed him because I will be gone...’

The bedroom door let out a groan, as Delilah made her way into his room. A double bed is the centre of the room; two rising and falling bodies lay under the cotton sheet.

There he was, his mouse brown hair sticking out of the open covers, his face aged and cracked from years of his profession. Delilah imagined hands in the same condition cracked and rough, with large weeping calloused fingers. What if they snap up as the knife is raised right to Delilah’s neck? Killing her before she could kill him.

Shaking her head, to stop the thoughts running around, she went to her back pocket where the knife lay in its sheath. It was her mothers; the man below her had made it for her one summer afternoon. The intricate details and smooth leather, made Delilah shuddered with envy.

A single light came through the open window in the room; it sent a cool breeze through the room which made Delilah shudder. But she can’t touch anything, they will look for clues and a closed window with fingerprints all over will lead them straight to her.

She will live, which is ironic because he won’t. Ha!

Knife poised, smirk set, breathing calm the last movement in the room was the slight shake of his body. Another quick swift movement and the woman next to him were dead.

Delilah had killed the Blacksmith and Barmaid.

 

In the blink of a watching black cat’s eye, Delilah was gone into the next village and the next….

 

‘Mummy! Daddy!’ Were the last two words Delilah heard from the village of the Blacksmith.

 

 

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