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Author Topic: "The Deed" A oneshot rated T(+)  (Read 425 times)

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Offline Cowboy Colt

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"The Deed" A oneshot rated T(+)
« on: February 12, 2013, 10:55:46 PM »
Title:The Deed
Rating:T +

This is a story I wrote that is half based on a book idea I once had, and half based on a reoccurring nightmare I once had. I hope its not too dark. I'm mostly pretty vague.

The Deed (click to show/hide)The smell of alcohol, Tabaco, and who knows what else assaulted his senses as Dolor entered the tavern. A scowl crossed his face as the harlots in the corner of the room eyed him with lustful stares. He had no intention of drowning his mind in beer or catching a disease; his deeds tonight were far darker.

He moved through the swath of patrons until he fixed his green eyes upon his target: A man of large stature, by the name of Protestas, was at the center of the bar, working up a large tab and being incredibly loud. Two days ago this man had taken life of the woman Dolor loved and fled when he was to much of a coward to face what he had done. This “man” had done something to her that belongs to the lowest of the low. He had taken her innocence.  He broke her. And in return, Dolor would break him.

    The soft creak of the floor could be heard as he moved towards his enemy. He clasped the large man on the shoulder with a firm grip. The young man uttered a startled expletive and turned to see who it was that disturbed him. When he saw who it was his face turned from anger to a knowing, smug, smile. Protestas had short dark black hair, light brown eyes and stood well over six feet tall.

“What are you doing here?” The one with brown eyes asked.

“Don’t play that game with me!” The Green eyed one snarled. “You know what you did to her!”

His voice was apparently loud enough for everyone to hear because all sound in the tavern came to a stop and all eyes were on them. The bartender, sensing the impending struggle, told them that he had already had four fights that day and he didn’t want another.

Not wanting to rile the people surrounding them and turn the odds against him, the green eyed young man agreed to take their ‘disagreement’ outside.

After both of them moved outside behind the tavern, Dolor offered him one last chance to own up to the sins he had committed. Protestas simply laughed.

Dolor let out a sigh. He had hoped he would get to hear him say what he had done, but it was not to be so. It didn’t really matter. He knew it was Protestas who had harmed his love.

He surveyed his opponent across from him with a careful eye. Protestas was wearing a simple black tunic, chain mail underneath. There was a long dagger housed within the sheath at his belt.

Their environment consisted of wet, unsteady ground that had mostly turned to mud due to recent rain and a large oak tree directly across from where they stood.
“You will die for what you did to her.”

Protestas stepped forward, cracked his knuckles, and drew the dagger from its sheath.

“Give me your best shot” he replied with a twisted smile as he rushed towards Dolor.

Their ‘fight’ didn’t last long.  Protestas was a skilled fighter and had size and power on his side, but the large amount of alcohol he consumed made him sloppy and sluggish. Combined with the fact that Dolor was no slouch himself, had a clear mind, and had pure hatred and rage fueling him, he was quickly beaten into submission.

“Doesn’t feel good? Does it?!” Dolor asked rhetorically as he delivered another kick to Protestas’s already broken ribs.

This had gone on for the majority of their confrontation. After Dolor disarmed Protestas, he was slow in his torture, making sure to make him feel the suffering that she had gone through; breaking Protestas’s hands and feet, punching him so hard in the jaw that it knocked out his teeth.  Dolor took no pleasure in harming others but every single cry of pain and mercy his enemy made only made him strike harder. Did she cry for help? Yes. Did she beg for mercy? Yes. Did she receive any? No.
Dolor lifted Protestas’s limp body and shoved him up against the nearby tree trunk. The deed was almost done.

“Now, before I kill you I want you to tell me what you did to her.”

Protestas made no reply.

“TELL ME!!” Dolor roared.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to kill her. Please just let me go. I don’t want to die.” 

Upon hearing the words‘ I don't want  to die’, Dolor let out a mad laugh that made the hairs on the back of Protestas’s neck stand up.
“You want mercy? YOU want mercy? After forcing yourself on a woman half your size, when no one was around to protect her and running like a coward. YOU expect mercy!?”

Dolor let out a bitter laugh. “People like you are all the same. As soon as there is someone stronger than you, you snivel and beg for your lives.”

Protetas eyes darted to Dolor's waist when he saw the glint of steel. His eyes went wide with fear when he saw that it was his own dagger.

“NO! Please-“He did not get the chance to finish the futile plea as the cold blade pierced his flesh and the last of his life was snuffed out.

Dolor released his grip on Protestas’s lifeless body and stepped backwards. And for the first time in two days he wept.

The deed was done.

I redid this about 4 times. Originally they were not even going to have names. I just named them after Latin words: Protestas= Power. Dolor=suffering

Hope this was not too terrible.
« Last Edit: February 12, 2013, 11:04:39 PM by 1911cowboy »

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Offline Cassidy Alice

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Re: "The Deed" A oneshot rated T(+)
« Reply #1 on: February 12, 2013, 11:16:53 PM »
Wow, Cowboy! That was such an amazing and chilling tale! Awesome job! :D


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Offline Team-Megan

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Re: "The Deed" A oneshot rated T(+)
« Reply #2 on: February 13, 2013, 05:21:30 AM »

your style reminds me of Eragon. just a bit. :)

I like the clever use of Latin for the names. very neat.

like cassidy said, chilling, but great!

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