Anti-Vigilant

The world stopped and cried for the victims of that night.
The innocent boys who met a brutal psychopath that attacked them on Christmas Eve at the small town of Mandurah

The world I knew meant nothing to me anymore, just a futile empty plain where I once existed in contentment long lost. Memories of old seemed to torment me rather than raise a smile to my cold bitter lips. I had been in love once, a girl had meant everything to me but she had left me so long ago. Abandoned by everyone I had trusted I felt alone, unwanted and useless. I wasn’t strong enough to have fought when I should off, to have made that stand when I still could. Back then time was against me but then my actions mattered. Time passed so slowly now, the few minutes I sat alone on that silent shore lasted an eternity within itself. Yet, I wanted nothing more than to stay there forever. The upcoming events are set in stone now and there is nothing I can do but watch and weep for the future. The only escape now would be to take my own life, this way I would not need to suffer anymore and not face what had to be done. I had been flirting with these thoughts for awhile now but knew I could not go through with it. I had made that cursed promise along time ago and I would not break my word even if it meant so much suffering.
“Hail the Christmas spirit!” I muttered in a sarcastic tone to no one in particularly.
No one was there, the streets, silent, abandoned, dead…
My mind lapsed back, into my childhood, where the children would run and play in this shoreline, the simpleness and the unseen shadow.
‘Where the nights as dark then?’ I wondered?
‘Had my parents not enforced the strict bed times would I have seen this darkness earlier?’
The council had decided to decorate the trees with feculent lights to ‘brighten’ up the bleak world I still see.
The hooligans claimed the streets by night as they usually do, finding joy in the destruction and chaos they reaped in their numbers. Their shallow lives were content as I once was only they did not care for anyone. They attacked ruthlessly passers by, ganging up on those who could not defend themselves.
They never attacked me, the way I looked fortified my safety and only in numbers would they dare threaten me. This was never a good thing, his exterior made people avoid him. I had no one, but with a capacity to love I was forced to dream and be content with that. Having a sniff once I fell deep in love, but that’s all gone now. I saw them approach, the proud arrogant little bastards who would steal and rape the world for their own pleasure never once feeling the cold stab of regret or misery. The unjust remained victorious, thieves, rapists, and murders. They run free enjoying the fruits of their labours.
I watched them come and stood silently expecting there numbers would give them the daring to assault me. It was the usually group, white kids dressed as black American’s. The deluded youth of the modern world weep for us all. They strutted along exercising bizarre ritual walking intoxicated on drugs made readily available from growers who survive of welfare checks and drug money living luxurious lives.

I kept my head up as I walked in their direction with intent on passing right through them that I knew was defiance. I watched them size themselves up reading themselves for the next rush. I drew forth a concealed blade from within my jacket; the cold steel sent a shiver down my spine. I kept it hidden as I entered their midst.
“What the fuck you looking up mutha fucka!” a stupid child challenged.
I stopped and looked down on the brat watching his ego slip, his gaze revealing doubt that I would soon exploit.
“You starting on me mutha fucka!” the larger friend shouted coming to the others aid. Their communication didn’t make sense but I knew they were just rehearsed lines from and rap video they saw on television. They hadn’t the brains even to modify them to suit the situation.

The time had come, the gang readied themselves to attack but now flooded in the anger that my darkness had concealed, I revealed the knife, the second hommie saw the blade and freaked.

Then came a dance of chaos and of blood, one that would shake fabric of the fragile society blind to the truth. Before the hommie had chance to react the blade danced through the midnight sky slashing open his thought spraying a bright Christmassy red blood that seemed to glow in the night. His friends, caught up in the desire to either run or attack just stood in awe and shock. I used this to my advantage going berserk, slashing furiously tearing the flesh of those who stood in my way.
The area soon became a blood bath, a nightmare that would never be forgotten. I thrust the blade into the other man’s flesh, and watched his eyes scream out the undignified pain he felt as it jammed into his ribcage. I was grabbed from behind, I struggled and freed my arms with enough leeway to stab him serval times before was stuck over the back of the head by something that could only be a steel pole. I felt dizzy, and tired, I collapsed pulling my victim down with me. His friends pulled him off and started to kick into me their shock finally giving way to a rage the loss of their friends had awakened.
Racked with pain I tried to get up but was knocked back down by a blow to the face. The next kick I caught with the knife that I embedded into his chin, he screamed and fell.
The finally blow rendered me unconscious, the steel rod caught me on the temple a blow that ended that night.

Out of the gang of twelve I had killed five and injured another four. The pain of that night would bring much misery to their families and I was branded the murderer without cause. The world stopped and cried for the victims of that night.
The innocent boys who met a brutal psychopath that attacked them on Christmas Eve at the small town of Mandurah.