The utterly spoiled immature voice commanded, its owner pointing at the opened window.

The reciever of the order, a young good-looking youth, helplessly shaked his head with an indulgent smile.

When he didn't move immediately, the pudgy child barely 3 feet tall immediately stamped his little feet, pouting angrily, "Get!"

The youth laughed and ruffled his short mahogany hair, making his pout turn into a spoiled grin.

Through a doorframe, their parents gazed at them warmly as they prepared for their meal.

The youth turned and walked out of the house, going into the direction of where his little brother's toy went.

Their little house, a wooden hut made of chopped logs the same color as the dark brown trees that surrounded it, was simple but made with delicate care. In this tiny corner of the world, flamboyance only attracted trouble and had no place in the practical minds of its inhabitants.


Nearly an hour away from his simple home, the youth searched his surroundings with the keen gaze of a hunter.

His slightly long light brown hair reached his forehead but not a single strand hit his striking eyes of iridescent green, like the green of the leaves of the plants around him, supernatural and piercing. They glowed with a soul-stirring light, as if he was a predator hiding behind the shadows, ready to strike at any moment.

While he was trying to find the toy, he was suddenly overcome with a foreboding feeling, that he realized he had been feeling since he had left his house.

Immediately, he dropped what he was doing and sped at full speed towards his home, an agonizing feeling of fear slowly but surely creeping in his rapidly beating heart.

He silently prayed that his family would be safe and that, for the first time, his instincts were wrong.


As always, they were right.

The youth bitterly thought as he gazed at the corpses of his beloved family.

The bodies slumped unnaturally over a short wooden table, made with the same wood the house was of, and bowls with unfinished and cold food laid on the table, one spilling cold soup over the table. Their hands were sprinkled with food, or held pieces of food in it.

It was almost as if their murderers wanted to mock him!

The youth started shaking violently, and blood slowly dripped from his tightly clenched hands as his eyes filled up with extreme anger and sorrow.

Slowly, his body slid down until he was kneeling and lines of tears silently flowed down his usually calm face, now twisted in agony.

Small heaves and groans occasionally left his throat as he stared at the faces of his beloved family, etching their visages into his mind, along with a pledge.

The ones who did this...


A note from The Mad Writer


I'm being silent because I'm being affected by the emotions in this piece. It's depressing and remind me of the inevitable end of my family, whether by time or other factors.

This was written somewhere around 2016-2018.

About the author

The Mad Writer

  • Somewhere totally sane people live, wherever that is
  • Lord Procrastinator of All Procrastinators

Bio: I bring to you Yours Truly! A being who alternates between sanity and insanity, ever in the state of extremes!!! MUAHAHAHAHAHA!!!

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