He was getting impatient as he sat listening to the sound of water hitting the rocks behind him as they raced down stream.
In this tense moment of waiting Adam knew the consequence of what he was about to do, he could picture the villagers gathering at the backyard of the court tomorrow applauding him for his bravery and noble act. He smiled.
Adam listened to the sound of footsteps coming from the distance he waited till he was striking distance of him. He grasped his knife with his right hand and lurched himself forward. His knife swept in an upward flash and plunged to the hilt through the flesh of his father’s back. With a cry of pain Hussein dropped his walking stick and with a cat like quickness turned himself around and grabbed the forearm of his son. The two men glared at each other. There were no words, both men understood each other. Suddenly Adam’s free hand reached behind to his belt, he drew forth a second knife and a single movement Hussein lurched his full body weight against him and they both crushed in to the thick bush and rolled down in to the rock floor of the river bank.
This was an attack Adam had prepared and with a lightning-like squirming movement he swung himself half free with Hussein’s huge hands linking his throat, he drew back his knife for the fatal plunge.
As he managed to push two hundred pounds of himself, a beam of light hit him in the eyes and almost blinded him. In an instant ten men were on top of him while Adam was partly off his guard the first man came at him with a powerful swing of a club. Adam fell in to the water and went unconscious.
It was morning after Adam woke up he lay in a small cage. There was a squared jawed man standing at the other side of the cage, “he is awake,” he called.
Four men with handcuffs appeared they grabbed him under the shoulders and led him to an ancient derelict-like building which read. “Court Room.”
The men knocked the door and it was opened instantly.
The silence in the dark and shabby room was so loud it was almost waiting to be shattered. The dampness was filling the room. Every breath taken of the air tasted stale and dead. Cobwebs filled every corner in the room. The dust was a carpet for the floor. The room eagerly waited to see the next victim and it wouldn’t have to wait for long.
The decaying old oak door stabbed the silence in the room, as it opened. It sounded like nails on a blackboard, the sound that sends shivers down your spine. A sudden stench of an infested swamp cluttered the room. Deep and powerful footsteps echoed on the four walls, belongs to a tall man with a figure like a bull. With every footstep taken his feet were indented in the dust, as if he was walked on snow. The man was dragging an old feeble bloke across the floor with his beard running along side him. Two other men walk in carrying a wooden headrest, and a sword. A sword that has taken more lives than disease itself.
Adam walked on smiling past familiar faces, and finally he spotted his mother from the crowd. The surrounding air thickened, his smile turned in to shock, his throat felt like someone or something has reached into his chest and ripped them in to shreds. His body made an attempt of resistance but his hands and feet find no friction. The windows to his soul are shut and he is trapped unable to speak.
Adam’s head was placed upon the rest. The bull-like man pulled a shiny black mask over his face with great dignity. He picked up the magnificent sword, even in this room the sword still glowed
Death was sliding from the damp lifeless walls, looking upon his next victim. His smirk was growing bigger by the second. Half dead he crawled down onto the floor. Blood surrounding him from the previous criminals.. Death now staring his next child in the eyes coldly.
The sword is drawn back behind the masked man’s head. It swoops down fiercely. Almost in slow motion the sword breaks the surface of the skin. Then cracks the spine. The head fell and hit the ground with a hard thud, piercing the eardrums. Blood spurted from his headless body, staining the dust. The blood now trickling. Now stopped, and the room silent once more. Death is pleased and disappears into the moist, misty air. Until the next time.
