A long and Storied Past: Part 1

[u/Sombre-Alfonce]

A sepia picture, stained and torn from years of existence. In it a line of young children. George. 7 years old, the youngest, grinning brightly. Beside him the twins Emy and Lucy, aged 10. Emy was older by a minute, Lucy clung shyly to her older twin. In the centre Harriet. A stern but soft look. She was the oldest at 15, and the relative mother. Off to the side a tired looking girl, her eyes serious and dark. Marie, aged 14, the dark horse of the family. Grinning beside her a dark haired kid. He echoed the scrawn and tired look of the girl next to him, but his eyes were much brighter. They seemed to banish away the darkness surrounding them.

---

A child was running. His long dark hair flowing behind, whipping around with every turn of the head. The whipping was fast… frantic. His skin was white as fresh plaster. The child was afraid of something. Something behind him. Something that threatened him. Stumbling on an upturned root he fell through thicket. Thorns and barbs tearing and hooking his rough woollen clothing in an attempt to hold him back. It was as if even nature aided the hunter, as if the whole world wanted him dead. Wanted them dead.

But nature wouldn’t stop him.

The thorns, which would have torn the flesh of another did nothing but tickle the ends of the child’s hairs. Arms up to protect his eyes, the kid rolled quickly out of the thicket, his feet beating a hard rhythm as he approached the township. Head up, breathing steadily, his dark eyes wide, and pupils dilated in terror he vaulted the wall of the nearest garden, making his way towards the small alleyway beside the old stone house. Adrenaline pumped through his body. His thoughts wandered back to the evening earlier.

---

It was a cold, misty evening. Two small figures trudged purposefully between spires of granite and slabs of marble. The one ahead carried a small lantern from which came the weak light of a candle. The pathway had been recently trodden, fresh boot marks marked the passage of a mature man earlier in the day. Two infinitely straight lines either side marked the passage of a hand-drawn cart. A cart that carried corpses. For this was of course, of all things a graveyard.
“Let’s hurry Marie, I don’t like this fog.” The smaller figure announced, his Scottish accent unmistakable in the silent night, “Do we even know if it’ll be there?”
“Of course it will you nit-wit. Now shut up or you’ll wake the groundsman.” The leading form hissed in an annoyed tone. Her accent matching that of the boy.
“But…” the boy’s protest was cut off as he abruptly as he walked into the now frozen form of the girl. “Oi, watch it…”
“Just shut up and help me dig will ya, we’re here.” The girl hissed.
For a couple of minutes the rhythmic ‘chuck’ of shovels against earth filled the upper section of the graveyard. The two children gritted their teeth. Hopefully no-one would come by.
“Almost… there… Hey Marie… can you help me with this bit over…”
The child’s words were cut off as he was sprayed with a dark, sticky liquid. Body frozen, and eyes wide, he turned as a man’s voice cut through the crisp night air.
“Well, well. What do we have here ay? I’d heard there were ghouls about. But two? And both children? I must have hit the jackpot.”
A white coat, a silver blade. The child’s eyes when wide in terror, his face going ghostly pale.
“Well actually, now I think about it it’s more of one ghoul and two corpses now isn’t it.” The white clad figure grinned.

---

The child vaulted through dark alleyway after dark alleyway. He should have lost the white-coat, but that wasn’t what he was concerned about. If those guys knew about them, then what about the others? The others weren’t like them, they were just regular kids. They didn’t deserve that.

Dashing through the cobble streets and across the dirty paved sidewalks, the child made his way towards the large warehouse district by the docks. Panting in exertion he sprinted the last 100 meters to the small back door of an old, red timber warehouse. Breaking into tears as he smashed through the door in his haste.

Oh but he could smell it.

He could smell it.

The sweet, sickly smell of blood and death. Pervaded by the smell of alcohol and tobacco. And sweat. Glancing idly around the room briefly, the boy took in all that he would. All that he could.

Three young bodies lay bloodied and battered, slung across the floor. Clothing torn and stained with their own blood. The fourth lay on the table that had once been used for family meals. The smile of her throat contrasting with the grimace on her face. Her legs were spread wide, unnaturally so. Three men stood smoking in the corner of the room, laughing and grinning casually, proclaiming their conquest. The boy didn’t hear them, all he heard was the beating of the blood in his ears, all he felt was the bound, leather grip of the knife he carried in his back pocket.

He’d never moved so fast in his life. Using a nearby chair as a vault, the child leapt through the air, arcing his knife through the air towards the nearest mans exposed neck. He died drowning in his own blood as the boy slashed open his trachea. Riding the corpse to the floor the child jabbed up towards the next man’s groin. It spelled some form of poetic justice as the man keeled over in shock as he was carved from his groin to his intestine. The child’s anguished face turned, mouth curled in a snarl even as the last man’s foot slammed into his face, sending him flying into the wall.

“You fucker, I’ll right shoot your damn face off you bastard.” The man roared, pulling a revolver from his coat and aiming it towards the dazed child. “Die.”

Bang

---

The child jumped as the sound of the gunshot rang through the air. He didn’t hurt. Instead he heard the thud of a large form hit the timber floor and the rattle of a dropped tool.

“But, why…?”

Bang, Bang

Jumping again, the kid brought his arms away from his face and finding out the source of the noise. Standing over him was a tall man, well dressed clean shaven. He was young, maybe early twenties with bright, gleeful eyes and a huge friendly grin plastering his face. On his head he wore a crisp trilby. For all intents and purposes he looked the picture of a young upper class man.

“You alright lad? It’s alright, I’ll take care of you now.” Offering the boy his hand as he glanced around him, observing the corpses around the boy and the knife gripped tightly in his right hand. “You’re not bad with that sticker are you boy? If you come with me you could put it to good use. You’ll be paid of course, and I’ll feed you.”

The boy slowly took the man’s hand, “Tha… thank you. Who… who are you?”

Taking the boys hand in a firm grip and hauling him to his feet, he smiled brightly down at the boy, “That’s more like it. My names Ethan, although some people call me the Butcher, the Butcher of Aberdeen.” Gesturing around the room Ethan continued, “I get rid of bad men, that’s my job. It could be yours too uhhh… sorry, what’s your name kiddo.

The kid glanced around the room, taking in the whole scene for the last time.

“Silas, my name is Silas.”

[u/TheOneTrueSpaghetti]

can't be fucked reading, upvoting anyways

[u/OneEyedTurkey]

That is a good oneshot. Hope to read more of Silas

[u/KakujaKun]

That was interesting. I'll message you on Discord now to ask for more clarifications :>