The night the Rhymer went whack

66

Can’t you see I set you free; I brought you to the light?

He didn’t want a conversation, for emotions might hinder his reasoning. He needed no sight, no smell nor touch. Just sound, so he blindfolded himself and made his way into her apartment. Nose plugs also for he remembered her love for flowers and that smell might bring back some beautiful memories. Without detection, he heard her in the shower so he sat and waited. Waited until she finished, got dressed then relaxed. And it was her sigh of contentment that triggered his strike. A quick twist of her neck and it was over. He then sliced her throat, for the blood would release her energy and that was needed to complete the plan.

He opened the windows and left the doors ajar, then his mentor, Straffe, positioned two unseen guard dogs to protect against intruders. That released energy would enter the world and he knew Nick would feel it. Feel it and come home. Upon leaving, again with no words, Reshod and Straffe stood unsure if their plan would transpire, but they both were secure in feeling that the world needed a change, a rebirth of some sort and this was their only option in bringing that transformation forth. Through it all, with the mostly bad, they knew Sharissa’s goodness or at least some part of it had to have transferred to her child.

They had planned to part ways, for if it backfired, Nick’s rage would be devilish, but Straffe was old and Reshod a warrior so they decided to stay together, catch up and use their collective will to usher in a new beginning. “Let’s stay,” Reshod instructed toward Straffe before continuing, “Where are we to go? Running? Hiding? Whatever fate has in store let it be quick, right here, right now. Where it began, let it end.” Straffe agreed so they found an abandoned apartment where they could ride out the time and also keep a look out.

Very little sleeping, very little tea. They took turns watching through the window, watching as days passed before one early dusk, Straffe announced, “He’s here,” as Nick and Rascal approached the front door.

“I know,” Reshod responded, having anticipated this very moment. Moments later, Rascal’s bark ceased then transformed into a whimper, then a pause, then a loud blood curdling scream that shook the world to its core. Then silence. Complete silence in its totality where even Straffe and Reshod passed out.

They awakened to the brightest sun and the brightest sky they had ever seen. Straffe smiled in memorial as it had been years since he last saw such sunlight. He peeked out further and witnessed Nick’s methodical gait as he exited away from the building. “Such a beautiful sight,” he added. “Have you seen anything more beautiful?” he asked Reshod, gesturing for him to come see for himself.

Reshod looked out. “No,” he responded, “I haven’t.”

They continued to witness Nick’s transformation, but Straffe soon slid down and laid on the floor in a pool of his own blood. Reshod, holding a bloody knife, continued to admire Nick for a few moments. He tearfully smiled then turned his attention toward the now dead Straffe. Bending down, he kneeled and glared angrily at his mentor, thinking about the abuse and the disarray this man had created. His blood boiled in silence before plunging the knife into his own chest. “We are the past,” he guttered as he angled himself to watch Nick walk toward the sunlight.