Burning ...[Fiction]

"Focus", he thought to himself. Eyes filled with vengenance and hatred spilt from his brains to his blood. Fist gripped like steel, ready to strike at any given moment. Oppurunity was the key. Thoughts and memories swept on his highways, ever reminding him of his past. "Focus", he said to himself. Pain, agony, depression and hate were all his good friends now and he needed them. He bit his lip, savoring the moment when he would plunge himself into the grasping hands of revenge. He flexed his teeth to cling onto both sets and the nerve broke off his forehead while his cheek muscles bulged out. The eyes opened wider, the broadness of sight enlarging every second as the prey got closer. He would not breathe. The small sound of breath could bring risk to his very existence. The day was dark; an irony indeed in retrsposect of a brilliant, good man turned into the devil. The smell of blood was close nearing and he longed for it. Grabbing his axe ever so quietly, he crept towards the naive object. Hungry he was but without the need for any digestion other than justice. With a sudden burst of anger and proximity on target, he ran towards the object - 200 men without any clue of his presence..... [To be Continued ...]