Creed

Prologue

An event I remember detail for detail is going up to Grandfather while he was sitting in his black leather arm chair one morning. The chair was placed in front of an enormous window that overlooked our secluded forest. He always sat there early in the morning, watching the blanket of fog move through the tips of the trees, thinking. Grandfather always had his morning cigar in hand, puffing it every so often. My father didn't let anyone smoke inside the house, or around me. It was one of my father's extreme measures to keep me in perfect condition.

Unfortunately, for my father, Grandfather wasn't just anyone.

I sat myself down on the cold floor, a few inches away from the chair watching the fog move. Grandfather didn't say anything, nor move. It was as if I didn't exist. After sitting there, for what seemed like hours, he spoke. 

"What's running through your mind, boy?"  Puffing his cigar, not looking away from the forest. 

Grandfather was a smart man, he'd be able to collect an amble amount of information just by observing a man through his behavior. His intuition was strong and that made him dangerous, that, in turn, gave Grandfather respect from those around him. I, too, was scared of grandfather, I also couldn't help but have admiration towards him. 

Grandfather's appearance was intimidating. He was a tall man with a build not particularly normal for someone who's 52 years old. Grandfather was muscular, you could tell underneath the expensive suits he'd always wear. His face was stern and cold, it showed no emotion. Even when killing a man with his bare hands, Grandfather's face remained monotone. His eyes, despite being a hypnotic light blue, were dark, damn near soulless. Those eyes would break any man down with one look. I've witnessed it countless times before. 

Grandfather was a man with no fears, he was someone who everyone feared. His passing was more than a decade ago, yet his name lives on within the fear of people's hearts. 

My fear of Grandfather came to be after witnessing him torture and kill men countless times. He'd beat them until their face didn't look human anymore. I always thought that one day, if I disobeyed him, or pissed him off somehow, he'd do that to me. Though, subconsciously, I knew he wouldn't hurt me. Grandfather didn't like people, mainly because they didn't see the world how he saw it but somehow he was very fond of me. My father once bitterly told me it's because Grandfather saw a bit of himself in me.

That morning, I finally mustered up the courage to ask Grandfather the question I had always asked myself, "how do you learn not to be afraid anymore?" The idea of being fearless was one of the values my father had been trying to engrain in my head ever since I could remember, so it was only a matter of time I'd ask the man who created the family creed. 

I will always remember that day because Grandfather looked down at me and grinned. That was the first and only ounce of emotion I will ever see him display for the remaining time he was alive. He reached over the arm chair and lifted my chin with one cold finger, our eyes reflecting into each others.  He spoke gently,"Don't worry, boy.  You'll become what your father never could. In due time, you'll become fear itself."

I viewed the world differently from that point on, I started thinking more.

Later that year, Grandfather would die in his bed, sleeping.  According to my father, Grandfather died of old age.