The Last Summer

"I will hurt you for this. I don't know how yet, but give me time. A day will come when you think yourself safe and happy, and suddenly your joy will turn to ashes in your mouth, and you'll know the debt is paid." -George R.R. Martin

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He watched them, sitting around the now dwindling fire, laughing and enjoying each others company like they didn't have a care in the world.

It disgusted him, seeing them like they had all forgotten they were monsters with pretty and handsome faces. That was one of the worst things about humanity. The majority of them were snakes. They looked innocent enough, but if one made the mistake of getting too close, they pounced and slowly squeezed the life out of you, enjoying every second of watching you suffer.

Well, he thought to himself, the tables would be turned this time around. He was going to make them suffer, just like they had done to him. They had ruined his life, and none of them even seemed to care. They'd blocked it from there memory without so much as a second thought, and that, to him, was the worst part of everything. If any of them had just apologized, maybe he would have forgiven them. It wasn't likely, but the thought had crossed his mind once or twice in the time he'd spent planning all of their demise.

He took a step backwards, hiding himself in the shadows of the trees, watching as they all packed up the things they had brought with them for the fire, laughing and conversing amongst themselves as they headed back up toward the partly lit up house at the top of the hill.

After nearly two years of careful planning and making sure everything fell into place, he knew the time to strike was coming soon. Very soon.

They would never see it coming, and that was just the way he wanted it.