Quick, someone approaches. Hide it. Conceal it.
That was close, remember why you’re doing this, remember what he did to your father. The screams and the splatter, oozing redwater over the chalk white floors. Never forget. Never forgive. His empire built on suffering souls, screams drowned out in the quest for progress. But you don’t forget, you never forget. Every time your vision fills with his coal powered dragons, roaring through the streets, blowing their grey flames over the lost and the helpless, the hate resurfaces. Murderer. Murderer!
His day has come, no longer will he live in the hall of heroes, like a wolf among sheep. No longer will the demons of hate starve in their hellholes, the hand of fate points its writhing finger. Judgement day has come for Aloyious White.
The decadent slug oozes from its foul den. Ready your weapon, the thieve’s-silver barrel weighing down on your fingers. Weighing down like the scales of judgement tipped against this murderer and his empire built on suffering. Never forget.
One clean shot through the head. No. Death would be the mercy of a mother’s love. Make him suffer. Suffer like the enslaved, the poor, the poisoned, those poisoned by sin, those men who have no home but hell. Men like Aloyious White. Men who act as if they had the slightest chance to earn God’s favour, but prey on the weak like a catcher in the night, its beady eyes stalking, its intense fixation on the hunt.
Even a wolf belongs in a pack, a place of acceptance. Even you, once had a father, a sense of belonging. But it was taken. So take it back now. That’s it… feel the trigger in your fingers, like your father’s touch.
Thud. Such is the frailty of life, a billionaire gone, a company fallen like the Kingdom of Babylon or the Empire of Rome. Never forget, that when the fog clears, even a blind man can see the truth.
Well… fancy meeting you here. You’ve gotten yourself into a ripe mess. My fault? No. All this falling apart is on you.
Perhaps your delusion has clouded your thoughts so badly that even simple truths fail to be perceived. Not unlike your father, whose only source of comfort was the bottle and the bongs. Even when Aloyious offered to pay for his rehabilitation did he not relent. Perhaps the sight of seeing him passed out lifeless in a puddle of his own heroin-laced vomit shut down your ability to rationalise. Never forget that like a coin, there are two sides to every story.
Aloyious was a good man, not unlike the saints of old. The values of honesty and charity carried him through his life, his noble deeds bringing hope to an otherwise bleak world. Now he has gone to the true hall of heroes, a hallowed place not even the highest of demons could reach. Let their hatred starve, there is a reason they prowl in their sootblack pits.
Were you so blind to the fireflies illuminating the cold emptiness in the absence of the sun? Or the lime pioneers rising majestically from the devastation of an arsonist’s red hot passion. Hope exists where all seems dark and Aloyious was that hope for the masses of powerless. In a world ruled by capitalism, who dares to stand for equality? Who risks their status, family and reputation for the crowds of the faceless? Who in their right mind chooses them over me? What motivated this man to be different? We may never know.
Spring follows every winter, like the youngmen follow the pungent aroma of pastry. Time is the mistress of all and in a few lonely moments all that will be left of a great man are his ashes, finally floating free in the world he so longed to better. Except, he has left something lasting-his legacy. The legacy of a single rose in a field of weeds. Never forget. What will your legacy be? Murdering a righteous man and wasting away in a padded cell? Today the world mourns the passing of a hero, tonight they sleep knowing he has gone off to a better place.
Bernard Tso 9L