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Path of Blood
Begging to be released from this hell, the man draws his blade and slaughters the innocent. Begging for their lives they scream and holler their cries of terror. Loved ones gone and families torn asunder, soon thereafter the only sound left is the wind blowing it’s mischievous sound. All the sounds of playing children gone. The sounds of radios playing their old music gone. A window opens and shuts in the distance from the wind. And all that’s left is the man, standing, wandering. Covered in blood he wields his blade, filled with the blood of innocents, and walks on, never resting, to his eternal damnation. Where he will never rest, and yet, never die.
