Fog always puts me in a bad mood.Tonight is particularly foggy. I am particularly cranky.
I stride down the road, grinding my teeth as the fingers of the fog sought to dampen my cloak and clothes beneath. I walk quickly, enjoying seeing the fog’s flight from the wind I create with the billowing of the cloak.
I pass a beggar on the streets.He shuffles forward, hands outstretched as I pass.It is a mistake.
There is a flash of silver and a spurt of red.
I leave the dead man behind.There are too many beggars anyway.
As I stride towards the gates a soldier steps in front of me. I try to pass through, but he holds up his hand,”Halt!”
I speak a quiet phrase and brush by the second dead man as he falls, struck by my deadly words.
I disappear into the fog, knowing when it lifts I will feel remorse for what I must do, so I must do it quickly.
I look for the man upon whom I seek revenge, for his death is imminent, is it not for us all?We will all die; I simply choose for him to die sooner.
Tonight.
In the fog.