It seemed like the weather had been clearing up for us in the past few days, growing warm and humid, in sign that the spring season would soon grace us with its radiant embrace. Just the thought of it can make a man ponder on how poetic it is to just live. Today I found myself lounging upon my simple porch, mind lost yet frolicking in the fluffy cloud formations as the sun beamed from above. The wind blew westward gently, dancing and racing through my fingers as I brought up an open hand to make its acquaintance. I couldn't help but crack a small-yet-sincere smile at the scenario, crack a small-yet-sincere smile at the scenario, the day itself proving all I need to enjoy myself. As I come down from my daydream, I realize the young man slowly approaching my porch. Much younger than I, his fists were clenched, almost shaking. His face was blank, but every now and then an impatient twitch would make an opposite eye flutter. He stopped at the steps and asked for my name. His voice was low and broken, yet he almost seemed to stumble over every word.
"Why yes, I am Philip, or Pm0n3y, if you wanna be technical about things. What brings you to my neck of the woods young'un? C'mon up on the porch, I won't bite." I tell him in a cooing tone, guiding him towards me. Sitting down in a seat adjacent to mine, he says nothing initially, the soothing sounds of the surrounding flora and fauna filling in the silence. As I begin to lose myself in another daydream sequence, the stranger hesitantly, albeit heavily, begins to speak.
"You know...why I'm here. At least, you'd know better than any of the others. I shouldn't be a surprise to you at all." He tells me with a strange determination, his eyes steady and dry. My smile lowers ever so slightly as I look into him. What he said was truth. I knew why he was here, and I knew how this day would end for me. He was chosen to extinguish lives, and I was but a lively ember. With a nod, I sat back in my chair, a scoff escaping from me. I got another look at the young man. His age and stature could only make me think of how cruel the game of fate played out this time around. Someone so young, issued with the task of mindlessly ending lives. But, a variable such as this one also made me curious. I began to yearn for his output.
"Tell me, how has it felt? To know that you hold the decision of life or death in your grasp? To watch someone crawl away from you, battered and bloodied, as they plead to live for just one more day? How about when you find yourself with hands maliciously around someone's neck, their eyes watering and bulging from their sockets as you squeeze down and rupture their esophagus? Does it give you a feeling of power? Does it feel good?" I ask him, my tone as calm and welcoming as its always been.
"Or am I thinking of it the wrong way? Instead of power, does it provoke guilt? When the crying and the screaming suddenly go silent? When you see that last twisted expression of pain and agony as you rise from a steadily-cooling corpse? To know that said person will never see anyone they ever loved or cared about ever again? Or perhaps, these acts provoke fear. Like when you learn of the force of individuals that actively search for you, in hopes gaining some sort of twisted justice and closure from your execution. Or maybe it's like when you find out that you can't go to sleep because of the faces...the gunshots...the stabbings, the asphyxiation, the mutilations...the holes you left...the ties you've severed..." My speech lowered as I looked at him, he in return struggled to make eye contact. Instead, gradually reddening eyes looked into his quivering hands. They were clean, but I knew he still saw the blood. I rose from my seat, and placed a hand on his shoulder. I showed him my smile, the small warm smile I've been wearing since the weather in itself began warming up.
"You're just loyal, is all. It's okay son. I'm not angry at you. You're only doing what you must." I tell him softly, showing him that comforting smile of mine. For the cycle to continue, for the scales to stay balanced, we both knew what followed after. With one last look, with one last serene smile, I hoped he could sleep a little easier as he traveled from a quiet house.