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misterbiz
Horror Mod
Joined: 10 Jan 2010
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Location: a chair in a cold dark living room
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 Posted: Sun Oct 23, 2011 12:53 am Post subject: Just Until Sunset |
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Prado sat and stared into his fireplace. No fire was lit but still, he sat upon his wooden stool and stared. Outside his cozy little cottage a soft wind blew, causing the trees to rustle and a couple leaves to blow into his home through the open window. With a small, relaxed sigh, he turned and gazed out the window, admiring the beauty of the countryside It was a shame he had never taken the time before to truly appreciate the peaceful splendor that surrounded him.
As he gazed out the window, a small breeze came forth and swept the back of his neck. He glanced over his shoulder for a brief moment before grunting and stretching an arm forward to grab the cane that sat against the fireplace. Another pain filled grunt escaped his lips as he rose, his back and hip letting out a disapproving crack.
With slow, stiff movements, he turned around. The door to his home sat open, allowing several passing leaves and dirt to wander inside. He lowered his head and shook it lightly before moving forward at a pace that even the snails outside would scoff at. Once he had managed to traverse his own dwelling, he placed one hand on the door and let out a sigh before smiling.
“You could have at least, closed the door on your way in here, dammit,” Prado said as he pushed the door closed and turned to face his fireplace once more. Standing in front of the fireplace was a young man dressed in skintight black leather. His long and flowing silver hair sat perfectly tucked between a set of long and pointed ears. The young elf stood and narrowed a pair of violet eyes at the old man.
“Prado De Vallencetori?” the young elf asked.
“Aye,” the old man said, as he started to trudge his way back to his stool. “And what would be your name, young assassin?”
“Vanator,” he said.
“Ah, nice name. Strong name. Sounds Northern. Perhaps somewhere along the Dragoste Peaks. Lower Shadow Valley, I'd say.”
The assassin arched an eyebrow and watched as he took a seat and smiled at him. “Yes. Oak Acre to be exact.”
The old man smiled then gestured toward his fireplace. He cleared his throat lightly before beaming at the young man. “If you don't mind, could you please light me a fire. I wish to die with at least some warmth in my body.”
The assassin looked puzzled by his statement. Like he couldn't grasp why this man was so welcoming of his fate. Of why he embraced the inevitable while so many others couldn't. They staved off death as fiercely as a wild dog caught in a trap. Yet, Prado sat happily upon his stool. The smile never leaving his face.
Vanator nodded and looked to the fireplace. He looked to the old man and started to ask where his firewood was but Prado was already pointing behind him. Vanator looked in the direction he was pointing. A few feet beyond the front door was a small pile of firewood. Just enough to keep Prado comfortable for another day, two at the most.
The young man moved toward the back. Prado watched and made a mental note of how Vanator's movements reminded him of a jungle cat. Every step fierce and deliberate. It was clear that he was very good at his job. Giving a nod of satisfaction that his murder wouldn't be done by an amateur, Prado glanced outside the window again and sighed contently.
Half the day was gone. The sun was hanging lazily in the sky the way it usually did here in The Summerlands. Just barely there, providing the people with enough hours of sunlight to get all of their important duties out of the way before it would skulk lazily behind the mountains. It was quite nice. He reached into a pocket and pulled out a small pocket watch. Three hours left until it happened. Three hours until the last bits of light left The Summerlands and a comforting blanket of darkness covered the land.
Putting the watch away, he proceeded to watch out the window as a butterfly flew past. A pair of raccoons player out in the high grass. The day was just perfect. He couldn't ask for a nicer day to die.
The small opening cackle of a fire tore his attention from the window to the fireplace, where Vanator started to rise. For a moment, Vanator didn't move. He stood as still as a statue, simply staring at the fire. After a couple of moments, he rubbed the back of his head and turned his attention to Prado.
“Pardon me for saying this but,” he hesitated for a moment before sighing and lowering his arm. “You seem to be taking my visit awfully well. You're not begging me to spare you. You're not telling me that this is a mistake. May I ask why? Where do you get you're calm?”
Prado smiled a bit before gesturing to large chair that sat nearby. “Sit and I will tell you.”
Vanator paused for a moment before complying. As Vanator sat, Prado licked his lips and looked out the window at the scenic view. “I take it from your question that I'm the first victim to fully accept their fate.”
Vanator nodded. “Yes.”
“Well,” Prado said. “I've been here in this land for many, many years and I know that fighting the inevitable is a foolish task. I've known from the time I was a small child that I was going to die and I determined as a young man that my demise would come at the hands of another.”
Vanator said nothing for a minute or two but simply thought about what Prado had said. It was quite understandable, in a way and perhaps, even close to being wise. Vanator was genuinely interested now. Before he had arrived, he was convinced that this would be an easy job. Almost certain that there would be no conversation. Yet, here he was talking to a victim. One that was offering no debate. No struggle for what was going to happen. He accepted it. He embraced it.
Slowly, the assassin rose. He slowly pulled a dagger from the sheath on his hip. He approached Prado stealthily, readying the weapon. Deciding it was best to just do it and get out while the moment was right. He raised the dagger, ready to strike.
“May I ask a favor of you?” Prado asked right as his killer's hand started to come down. The blade stopped just short of Prado's bald skull.
Vanator arched an eyebrow. Perhaps this was it. The begging. The asking of mercy. He lowered the blade and watched as the old man looked out the window with a soft smile remaining on his face.
“You may,” he said.
“Hold off on killing me for a little while,” Prado responded.
“What happened to not fighting the inevitable?”
“Who said I'm fighting it?” Prado snapped. “I said a little while, not forever. Learn to listen.”
Vanator took a step back. The reaction had startled him. He looked at him for a moment before lowering his head and letting out a small breath. “I'm sorry.”
“You should be. I fully intend on dying tonight. I just want to wait until sunset. Just until sunset. Then I wish for you to take that little silver trinket of yours and do your duty.”
Vanator looked to his blade then back to the old man. With a grunt of dissatisfaction at having his weapon called a trinket, he put it away. He thought for a moment before speaking again.
“Very well,” he said. “I shall wait until the sunset but may I ask why?”
Prado nodded and looked to the young elf. “It is because for the first time in my life, I am truly understanding the beauty in nature. The flora, the fauna, the sunset. Everything. It is all so splendid yet for the first time in my life, I am noticing just how splendid it is.”
Vanator looked out at window and shrugged. “Doesn't seem that special to me.”
Prado let out a small laugh. “Aye, but you are young and foolhardy. The only beauty you are capable of grasping is that of your elven wenches and your own reflection.” He let out a wild cackle before starting to cough and ending up having to stop. “Don't fret, though. I was the same way.”
Vanator continued to look out the window with the old man. He watched as the two raccoons moved on from the grass and scurried into the woods. The tall grass swayed in the breeze in a somewhat melodic manner. The more his eyes studied it, the more he saw the wisdom in the old man's words. It was a beautiful sight. All of the traveling, he did and he hadn't noticed. He moved back to his chair and sat down, studying the old man.
He was certainly the oldest victim that he had and there was a certain wisdom and likability about him. It was starting to make him wonder just why Prado had been slated to die. After a long but comfortable silence between the two. The curiosity became too much for him.
“You know, old man, you are the oldest victim I've had. And you are certainly the most accepting of his fate. And I suppose, in a way, the wisest one as well. So tell me, just who and why would wish my services for you.”
The old man chuckled and simply nodded toward the window. “You see those woods out there?”
Vanator nodded. “I do.”
“I use to take a run every morning through them. I would hunt with nothing more than a large stone and the clothes on my back. I would run all the way to town and drink any man I came across under the table. I split wood, I fought, I was a great adventurer. I traveled these lands taking on all comers.” He said patting his own leg, the very thought of his past exciting him and making the smile on his face continue to grow. He looked to Vanator for a moment before the smile started to fade. He looked to the ground for a couple seconds before pulling out his watch and glancing at the time. Two hours and fifteen minutes.
“You didn't seem to answer my question,” Vanator said.
“The answer is simple, you dolt. Look at me. I went from that to this. To simplify it, I'm your client. I'm paying you to kill me.”
The assassin's eyes widened. This was definitely a first. Not once had a client paid to be a victim. His mouth flapped open for a couple minutes like a fish out of water. For some reason, it was hard for him to comprehend. “Why?”
“Easy. I'm old. I used to be an adventurer, a fighter. Now I can't even stand upright, let alone run. All my firewood is brought by someone from the village. I live off of gruel that is delivered every month in a barrel. All of my friends are dead. As is my family. I have no heirs and nothing else to offer the world. “
Vanator sat stunned, simply looking at the old man as he looked back out the window and watched as a family of foxes move through the tall grass. For the longest time, neither said anything. Prado was content to sit and look out the window. Vanator was simply amazed at the old man. He had known people that upon reaching a similar age, no longer wished to live but hiring someone to do it for them, that was new. After a very long silence, he leaned forward.
“Why hire me? Why not do it yourself?”
Prado let out a chuckle. “I can barely grab my cane, let alone hold a knife or make a noose. Starvation is just too damn long. Besides, I have a chest in my bedchambers, inside are three large bags of gold that will have no place to go. I think its best if I put it to good use and contribute to my demise. Besides, I told you. I am determined to go by another's hand.”
He looked to his watch again. An hour and forty five minutes. It was almost time. He looked Vanator and smiled. “You mind if I ask another favor?”
Vanator thought for a moment, simply staring. He supposed there was no harm in it. He was the client after all. He had to give him what he wanted.
“Go ahead.”
“I'm hungry and do not wish to die so. Could you perhaps fix me a meal. I've got a small barrel of gruel down in the cellar. As well as bottle of wine I had intended to be used to celebrate the birth of a son. One that never came.”
Vanator thought about the request before rising and moving to the cellar. Once downstairs, he found the barrel that Prado had mentioned. Slowly, he looked to the stairs and realized what a trek, all of his meals must be. He found the bottle of wine and grabbed it before grabbing the barrel and walking back upstairs. Prado sat on his stool continuing to stare outside.
Vanator moved to the kitchen area and opened the barrel. He filled a bowl with the slop and poured a glass of wine. In silence, he served them to the old man. Then, without a word spoken between them. Prado ate. After he had finished, there were no words either.
Instead, both men sat and stared out the window. The tall grass continued to dance in the wind. All creatures had vanished from the field and instead it was nothing but grass and sunshine. Even then, it was still beautiful. A picture of perfection to both men. Slowly, the sun moved down, lazily skulking behind the mountains. Vanator tended to the fire, feeding it the last of Prado's logs before standing and watching as the sun went down.
“Beautiful,” Prado said.
“Very,” Vanator replied, pulling out his dagger. “Are you certain about this?”
Prado nodded. “I'm tired of waiting for Death. I think it is time I paid him a visit. Your payment is in the chest in my bedchambers. Use it well.”
“I will. May you rest in peace, Prado,” Vanator said, raising the blade.
“And may you never grow old,” Prado said. Vanator made sure that his hand was steady, he wanted this to be quick as possible. “And Vanator...”
“Yes, Prado?”
“Thank you.”
In a swift motion, Vanator brought the dagger down and sank it into the top of Prado's skull. Instantly, the body went limp. Vanator pulled the blade and gently lowered the body to the ground. Without showing emotion, the elf strode into Prado's bedchambers and found the chest that the old man had mentioned. He opened it and removed his payment from inside. He hooked the payment to his belt before leaving the room and extinguishing the fire.
In the same cold manner, he picked up Prado's body and carried him outside. He moved back inside and moved down to the cellar. He scoured the area before finding what he wanted. A shovel.
After retracing his steps to the outside, he dug a small grave behind Prado's home. Seeing as Prado had no family, he felt that it was up to him to give the man a burial. After all, he was brave and determined enough to die in a manner of his choosing. He hadn't simply let himself rot away. He made death come on his terms.
Vanator quickly dropped in the body and covered it before simply standing and paying his respects. He knew that it wasn't necessary. He had only known the man for a brief time but a part of him told him that he had to. That if no one else was going to that he should for as long as possible. So he stood until the sun started to rise. Vanator's eyes moved to the horizon and he smiled as sunlight started to cover the land.
“Beautiful,” he said before turning and strolling away. Once he reached the nearest town, he found the inn and placed one of his sacks of gold coins in front of the innkeeper. “A room.”
“How long do you plan on staying?” the man asked.
“Just until sunset,” he said. “I just need until sunset.”
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Andolyn
Mayor's Ambassador
Joined: 18 Apr 2011
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Location: sitting barefoot in a tree in the beautiful land of Ardara, writing my tales...
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| Posted: Tue Oct 25, 2011 6:26 pm Post subject: |
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| this is fABULOUS Biz!! am i sensing a Vanator SG spinoff?? yes please?
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kc9cra
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Joined: 27 Aug 2011
Topics: 5
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Location: evansville, Indiana
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| Posted: Wed Oct 26, 2011 6:40 am Post subject: |
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I don't normally do the whole fantacy/medieval thing, but this one I like.
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chapter 7 of New Chicago is up. Check it out in Scifiville.
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Thunderbird
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Joined: 13 Sep 2009
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Location: Rising from the ashes
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| Posted: Thu Oct 27, 2011 7:22 pm Post subject: |
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This seemed terribly familiar - you had this posted elsewhere and I had read it there I think. Still, you have it so very nicely edited I think and I was really happy to have read it again.
Its a great premise and that's its strength largely. But I get the feeling that the author was exploring the premise rather than using it. What I mean is that it seemed it should be the beginning of a larger tale, or form the basis for something much deeper... left here it seems to just be a mosey through a random thought. Take that as an invitation to deepen - I'm sure we'll all be looking for it 
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 CHAPTER 25: Near-Light Speed (NEW CHAPTER! (12/4/2011))
Zephyrrr! And...  
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