This is based off of a writing prompt. It has nothing to do with the story I’m writing for grad school. I’m not going to say much about it because I might end up spoiling it. It should be a quick read so enjoy!
The Last One
“What are you doing to my friends?” he demands. “I know you can hear me. You’re looking right at me!”
“Answer me, what ever you are! No one fucks with my friends and gets away with it!”
“I don’t care if I’m the last one standing! You’re not taking me from my home! I grew up here and I plan on dying here–on my terms!”
The wind blows hard and the sun is beginning to set. An awkward silence looms over everyone. The buzz of landscaping equipment can be heard in the distance, along with silent screams that only he can hear. They eat away at him and in the back of his mind, he wishes for a quick death, but knows he can’t go down without a fight. He cannot let his friends and family die in vain.
One of the grunts asks, “How do you want to do this?”
His superior responds, “Start at the top. It’ll be easier to clean up.”
“Should we use a saw?”
“No, for a job like this, it needs to be done the old fashioned way.”
Their prisoner overhears this and wonders if his friends have been subjected to the same. He’s heard about The Axe, but it’s been a long time. They haven’t had to worry about The Axe for at least fifty years. Parents are hacked to pieces, in front of their children who are then left to fend for themselves knowing that one day, they’ll be next. The prisoner knows his time has come, but he’s had time to grow strong enough to defend himself. He watched his friends be taken away and he wanted to help, but he was forced to stay put.
They were interested in him, but he was at a height and age where he was still too young to be taken away, but big enough to live a prosperous life if left alone to grow big and strong. Patience kept him alive throughout the years, letting nature determine whether or not he’ll live and produce children that will one day grow just as strong as him.
These memories pass through his mind as they tie his limbs with ropes, preventing any kind of escape. Their strongest grunt grabbed the axe and looked at his prisoner, laughing and mumbling something inaudible to the smaller grunts. They were encouraging him to do these despicable acts, patting him on the back, yelling, I guess, to pump him up,
“Whenever you’re ready,” challenges the prisoner, accepting that his time has come and there’s no escape.
The grunt, looking up at him, seems to understand him for a second, and swings the axe. The axe hits its target, but breaks on contact. The combination of bark and entwined fibers prevent the axe from penetrating the body.
The grunt looks up at his prisoner, and acknowledges his defeat by nodding his head and shrugging his shoulders. The other grunts laugh at their superior, but the superior shuts them up quickly. He turns back at the victor, and the victor sees a newfound sense of peace in his captor’s eyes.