The Prowler

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Alexus Bristol

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I fulminated against the Order, and this was the price I had to pay.

“This drastic enough for ya?” I whispered to the executioner. Maybe I was being a bit sanguine, but honestly, my heartbeat was pounding at the thought that it might stop. They thought I was some nefarious criminal! Alright, so maybe my intentions were a bit malicious, and maybe I kicked a guard’s A-double-S, but they could’ve at least given me a cooler outfit.

All I have now is a raggedy pair of sweats and the same old t-shirt that they gave me at The Asylum.

In the plaza, a crowd caused a thunderous uproar. They were angry, mostly at me, what I attempted…what I did.

The leader of the Order, my father, walked the stage in front of me. Facing the crowd, he made a large outward gesture with his arms extended to silence them.

An ominous, chilling wind blew through my ebony hair. It was strangely silent throughout the plaza.

Suddenly, my phone buzzed in my back pocket. It was tough, but I finally reached far back enough to reach it.

The executioner bent down to me. “C’mon man, I got a job to do…” he seemed comically annoyed, although I couldn’t see most of his face.

I rolled my eyes. “Five seconds, dude,” I whispered back.

It was a text message from my father. I didn’t raise you like this.

“Ok. Now go.”

He raised the ax, as I said my last words. “Oh, but you did, father,” answering his message.

He winced at me in confusion, and then the blood splattered on the block.



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