“I knew what you were from the beginning. I could smell the blood on you. You were born to spill blood, boy.” The words echoed in my head over and over. The dream had shaken me to my very core. The owl who had spoken them also lingered in my thoughts.

I headed to the kitchen for breakfast. I was just an ordinary kid doing ordinary things, not a man standing on a literal field of blood. I ate my cereal and headed to school I told my friends about the dream and they had looked at me like I was crazy.

Mom had me talk to my therapist about the dream, he told me not to worry, it was just a dream. This reassured my mom at least, to me it felt more like a premonition.

The next week something happened that blew my mind. I had a sword. It happened while I was reading one of my favorite books the main character pulled a sword out of a hat. Boom, sword in hand. It was beyond weird. It was real and sharp, the gash on my hand proved that.

I hid it under my bed. I had forgotten about until I moved out. Yeah, I know how do you forget about a fucking sword, but I did. I was packing up for college when I found it dusty but still sharp. I packed it up with my stuff and took it to my new place. That is not something you want your parents to find.

It’s also not something you want the cops to find I learned. It was confiscated when my roommate got caught with dope. I got it back eventually, but not before I needed it.

Needless to say that damn bird was right, I was born to spill blood. Even without my sword I was more deadly than I thought, which any level would have been more deadly. I could hardly kill a spider before the guy attacked me, but he was dead. It happened so fast I don’t really know how, but the damage was done.

I called the police to turn myself in but it was in self defense, and I didn’t have a weapon. They told me he had a gun and I was lucky to be alive. They don’t let you have your sword back after something like that. I went back home and it was back under my bed.

I felt like I was going crazy. I half expected some wise old guy to come out of the woodwork and tell me he was going to teach me all the secrets of the sword. I did not expect some old dude to try to straight up murder me in my bed. I was really glad I had my sword then. This guy had some moves for looking like he was a million.

So there was another dead guy in my apartment. I took this as a sign to move on, I didn’t even bother to cancel the lease. Once out of town I thought it was safe. I was wrong, seems like that happens a lot. Within a week there were more people trying to come after me. Not just at home either, just on the street they would attack me.

The body count kept rising. Once it went over twenty people I freaked out.

I couldn’t explain any of it. It was like all instinct. The farther from home I got the more people attacked me. I had managed to move half way around the world trying to get away from this, and it just got worse. I stood on a field of blood. Bodies of my enemies behind me my sword was soaked with blood and gore. I had beaten them, an owl hooted in the distance.


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Writing short stories and flash pieces.

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