Sweetness of The Stars

An Empty, Bloody Canvas

(Sorry for the late update, I will try my best to publish on time, especially around December.)

The room lit up as the man screamed bloody murder and staggered to his knees. Blood streamed down his head while he went absolutely bonkers. The young woman beside him was appalled, terrified by the ugly screams that were projected. The light he emitted grew brighter, but his eyes finally showed a light of life. A light of fear.

"Get out of my head!" the man shrieked while pressing his temples with such force. He slammed his head onto the wood flooring one last time before replacing agony with sorrow, and began weeping. Blood droplet and tear droplets alternated as they dropped to the ground. First blood, then tears. Then blood, then tears, and so on. It continued until there was a soup of fluids on the ground.

"Are you okay?" I asked. He obviously wasn't okay, what was I thinking. This man literally secreted blood, sweat, and tears from his body in one moment. It gives that saying "It took all my blood, sweat, and tears" to a whole new level. The man stayed silent, and the young woman was still, now moved away from the man, I would too.

A couple seconds after that incident, two people in red shirts came marching in with large baton-like sticks and approached the man. They snared at me, shoved me out the way, raised their batons and began to strike the man with it. The two of them beat the man senseless as he was curled into a ball on the floor. They pounded his head, swung at his jaw with insane force, and splintered his arms with their wooden batons. The harder the hits, the faster the white light the man emitted dimmed.

One of the red shirted people aimed his baton and swung it maliciously at the man's head, almost like he was pretending to swing at a golf ball and make it go flying. The force was so great that blood was coughed out like some sort of spray and a tooth went flying across the room.

Blood spattered onto my shirt and I gazed upon it in disgust. I wanted to help him out, but I knew I couldn't do anything. I'm not a fighter. I don't have a silver tongue. I'm no negotiator either. I'm a cowards. There's absolutely nothing I could do, but sit and watch them tear that man to shreds. But that got me thinking, as I looked at the man and at the young lady, they both had scars from cut wounds. Did the guys in red ever resort to using knives? Were they even that cruel? Only time will tell.

After about a couple minutes or so, the men in red stopped beating the man, then left. The man stayed lying on the floor, blankly staring at the ceiling looking into a void of nothing. These people were used to it. Used to having nothing. Who knows how long they were here, but they sure seemed accustomed-I don't know if that's the right word, to this lifestyle. I feared that might be what I'll become, but I don't want to stay that long. The only way for me to go, is to kill the spellcaster of this barrier or force field, or whatever you may call it.

The room grew silent while screams of helpless people outside were being tortured, whipped, and burned alive. The men in red shirts laughed with pleasure, staring down the victims as they desperately clawed at the dirt walls to escape the pit in the earth with a fiery floor. They cried and pleaded to their captors, desperately holding onto dear life while their skin begins to melt and the flames slowly consume them. Hearing people scream for their lives, yell out in searing pain, no wonder these people in here with me are so mentally destroyed. They're constantly being beaten, and are forced to listen to the sound of dying men and women as they sleep. Who knows when it will be their turn to die by the hands of these monsters.

The young woman sank her face into the mattress of the bed, trying to tune out the world. The young man still laid on the floor with a dead expressions. He was breathing heavily and the blood slowly streamed from his mouth and head.

Should I do something? It pains me to see someone in a state like this, I just want to be of help to someone at least... something I don't think I've ever been. I walked up to the man, who wasn't even moving at this point. He just laid on the floor, vacantly gazing at the ceiling. "Are you okay?" Again, not a very good question, he obviously isn't doing well. The man's eyes moved slightly in my direction, but was still blank, like an empty canvas. His eyes lacked a sparkle, it lacked life. His dark colored eyes looked as if it had given up.