Crimson drops, the decadent red falls off the lycoris radiata.
The tainted beauty, as the petals become drenched.
Drip drop, drip drop, goes the crimson.
The exquisite prepossessing lycoris, marred with each drop of crimson.
Drip drop, drip drops goes the pitter patter of crimson to the ground.
The lycoris no longer pure but ‘twas it ever?
Was I ever? Maybe never…
Part 1 Choices
Memories are made through experience, depending on whether the experience is joyous or fallacious. I’ve never been joyous, a happy memory never remembered. All I’ve ever known is the stench of death. Humans created me for killing, yet all I think of is my death.
I dream of crimson always crimson, drops dripping off the lycoris. I question my life and existence. Why did they create me? Why must I live while others are killed?…drip drop
They’ve sent me on a task, and of course I oblige without question. Never with question.
Standing on the corner of two streets I wait for my target. A poised killer. I know not why I must kill her, only that i must. The street is bustling with people, the clamoring of noise deafening. The bright lights coming from every direction. Neons of every color come from advertisements, while people stand on the sidewalk handing out flyers. I can smell the faint smell of coffee from a nearby cafe. The smell of coffee is paired with that of warm food from a restaurant. The roads sparkle with past rain, small puddles here and there litter the ground. I spot a mother and her child walking closer to me, on the sidewalk. The child stares into my eyes as he passes. His dark brown eyes curious and questioning, so innocent and unknowing. The mother notices what he is staring at, me. She meets my eyes and I can almost feel her fear, This is a common reaction from humans. She grabs her child’s arm and scurries away. As people past me I can feel their stares, the younger ones curious while the adults quickly move past. The isolation of difference between me and them is nothing new…so lonely.
At long last I see my target approaching, Yukio Yamata. She looks to be in her late thirties. She wears a modern pants suit outfit, her long hair in a tight bun. I know nothing about her, and I do not need to. She walks alone which makes the possibility of casualties lesser. I trail her from a distance, my mind calm and steady. Pitter patter goes the crimson. She walks with the grace of a ballerina and I stalk her with the stealth of a tiger. The sun slowly descends in the distance, the sunset glow bouncing off the buildings glass. After a couple blocks of trailing Yukio she stops in front of an apartment building. The building is modern looking, and goes up for about ten floors. I slip into an alleyway, unseen, waiting, unbeknown. Peering through a window, I see my target enter an elevator. The type, lucky for me, which shows the floor numbers at the top. I wait for the elevator to stop, seems like seconds have turned to hours. The elevator at long last stops, on the 5th floor.
I begin my assent. I go to the part of the wall which is cement. I grab the wall, my fingers easily digging into the cement. My climb leaves big holes where cement used to be. The material like clay within my hands. I reach the 5th floor quickly. I start looking through each window trying to find my target. My excitement growing. My hands itching to feel flesh. The now dark sky helping to conceal my actions. I finally find her window at long last. I can see her walking to what looks like a kitchen. The window is unlocked. luck is on my side not Yukio’s. Drip drop. I slide through the now open window, I stand in her living room. Her house is neat, with colors of white and beige to accent her decor. The kitchen light is on and I creep closer, until I stand outside of the kitchen.
I freeze mid step. My spine goes cold. I hear a child’s laughter, and I hear Yukio talking with a child. I peer into the kitchen and see Yukio’s back to me as she stirs something on the stove. The smell of miso wafts from the stove. The child is on its tippy toes trying to peer at what she is cooking. There wasn’t supposed to be casualties. There cannot be witnesses. If I do not kill the child others will be sent to off them. I walk forward and the child turns to stare at me. She pulls on Yukio’s pant to get her attention. The child is pointing at me, and Yukio turns around. Yukio steps forward and quickly pushes the child behind her. How heroic yet futile. I stare at Yukio, her eyes filled with unspilled tears. She knows she stands no chance. She trembles and she tries to speak
“ Please… spare the child ”. Her voice pleading. I do not respond, I simple walk forward. I stand inches from her fear stricken face. I thrust my hand forward, piercing her chest. The flesh soft and warm, my hand wraps around her beating heart. Blood seeps from the wound. I jerk my hand out from her chest, now baren of a heart. Her body slumps to the ground. The heart drops to the ground, still moving but slowing down. Blood pools around it. Drip drop… The child which stood behind her now revealed. The little girl cries her body trembling from the impact of what just happened. The child runs towards me and beats her useless and weak hands against my legs, tears big and round falling from her chin. I look at how small this child is. She is scared of mE yet attempts to be rid of me.
I decide to do something which should not be done. I lift the child and sling her over my shoulder. She beats her fragile fists against my back and tries to kick me, of course her attempts are wasted. I leave out the window from which I came. I leap from the window and land hard on the ground, leaving dents and cracks where my feet were. For once I feel like I am doing something right. As I run, the world disappears, the wind blowing my hair back. The world a blur yet I see every detail. Every strand of grass perfectly clear, the noise of cars and city life soon fade. The sky is dark, the stars like diamonds, twinkling from above lighting the way. The landscape soon turns to that of a forest. Tall trees stand all around me. The darkness seems welcoming.
Part 2 Child
I finally take notice of the child still slung over my shoulder. She hasn’t moved in awhile, but I can feel the steady rise and fall of her small chest. I keep walking but slower, my body untired and unphased from running. The night smells of fresh rain, the ground is damp and squishes beneath my feet. Soon we would be found, they would send people after us. For now I shall just enjoy the air, which I had never tasted before, freedom.
I eventually come to a cliff’s edge, I set the sleeping child down. I take a deep breath and that’s when I hear the helicopter. That’s when I hear the revving of engines. I close my eyes and wait for them to come, knowing it was inevitable. I can feel the strong breeze as the helicopter lands near by, the shouting of men. My surrounding light up and I feel a spot light trained on me. I open my eyes and turn, to stare at the small army come to kill me or take me back. I wouldn’t go back.
“ Crimson devil, come easily or we will kill”. A man steps forward he wears all black armor like the rest of the men, he must be leading the mission. All the men about a hundred or so standing pointing guns at me. Do I have a choice? Yes do, I smile which twists into a sneer.
“ Try me” I spit the words at the man. They brought their death upon themselves.
The child starts to stir awake, she rubs her eyes and slowly stand up. She takes the scene in front of her in, confused and scared. I think it’s then that the soldiers realize the child is there. The man which had stepped forward bites his lip “ casualty” he mutters under his breath but I can hear him with ease. He lifts his gun to shoot the child, I step in front of the child. I can’t have her dying, I can’t.
“ Crimson move you know what has to be done” He opens fire upon me, the bullets followed by more from his men as he gives the command. The bullets sting but I can handle it, except with each new bullet the bullets travel further through me. I hear a small scream, and the bullets stop. I look behind me and see the child has fallen. She is gasping for air, she is covered in crimson mine or hers i do not know. I fall to the ground and pick the child up to hold her in my arms. Crimson spills from her mouth and she looks into my eyes as she takes her last breath. My heart sinks for I have failed to keep her alive. I set her small crimson stained body down gently and brush the crimson away from her lips. I stand up, causing bullets to fall from my wounds. Hundreds of them fall away. I am soaked in blood but no matter. The men still stand holding their guns at me.
“ You’ve made a grave mistake which will cost all of your lives” without hesitation I rush forward to rip the head of the closest man. The leading man shouts an order and bullets rain down on me. I do not care, I go person to person ripping off heads. They shout and shot at me, but I don’t stop the bullets nothing but scratch’s. My blind rage growing as I do exactly what I was made to do. I vaguely hear the helicopter from above me, I look up from my killing to glare at the helicopter. They have machine guns and missiles pointed at me. I look around me, and all I see is bodies piled on one another. Each decapitated or limbs ripped from torso, the ground stained with blood. Nobody is left alive, and I feel ashamed. I should be the one dead, not the child nor the men. Only me.
The release of a missile from the helicopter snaps my attention back. The missile’s comes at me almost in slow motion, I don’t move. I stand waiting for it, finally I can die. Finally I can be free, I know I cannot atton for my life. Death is better.
The end is always bitter sweet, much like death is sweet and life is bitter.
The lycoris tainted but the crimson no longer flows.
Such sweet passing, a bliss.
Was I ever meant to live? Maybe not.