Untitled - Campbell University

The scrap lumber propped up against the dumpster to my left was an
opportune weapon. It was like fate had lead me to this very spot, to find a weasel
in need of a lesson. The wood, damp from the evening storm, felt good in my
hands. Its strong oak material, saturated with moisture, was the right weight for
inflicting pain. It wasn’t really heavy enough to kill this worthless weasel, just leave
him a reminder of what stupid inconsideration costs. It wouldn’t snap on impact; it
wouldn’t give when it broke bone. This board was my vessel for vindication on all
that life had thrown at me, its culmination a drunken Mr. John Fret. I approached
the young man, lost in his drunken stupor, hate poised and ready to strike. My
footsteps hastened the more space I closed between us. The poor sap didn’t even
see me coming, as the board landed across his skull with the force five years of pent
up rage and bitterness alone can inflict. A satisfying crunch was followed by a loud
thud. Weasel hit the pavement, a crumpled mess.
I looked down at what I had done and winced. A concave indention
indicated where the wood had landed and split over his head. I had felt his body
give way to the blow and knew without looking that he had taken his last greedy
breath in that waste filled alley. Even still, I couldn’t help but stare at the work of my
anger. I had just taken a life from this world, just as the world had taken a life from
me. All seemed right for those haunting seconds I spent over his corpse. Fate had
taken control of my life once before, and there in that alley I had taken it back with
a vengeance. That vengeance was nothing more than a tough break for the kid, guess
life happens to the best and worst of us. I didn’t check to see if anyone was looking;
I didn’t care. I didn’t even stop to pray. I lit up my last Red and walked back into
Halley’s Pub.
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