Im following Soda's lead in writing awful stories that make you all die a little inside =)
***
I was a surge of white fur, leaping across the roofs, searching for people in need of mercy.
All the wails of the homeless and poor rang out to me, as though hearing a young cub cry for help.
But they were not my priority tonight.
I heard a awful song from one house, and was reminded of the song I sung every time my father beat me.
I slipped through the chimmeny, unfased by the open flame I passed through.
The child lay wailing on the bed. The song just got louder as I approached.
"Just wait, dear," I whispered, mostly to myself. "Mercy shall come soon."
I unsheathed my knife, and made the motion of plunging it into the child's head, when I felt footsteps hammering against the floor. I quickly hid in the closet, and as the child turned its attention to my hiding place, a fat, ugly, drunken man came stumbling through the door. Immedialey the room stunk of old wine. The man forced the child onto the bed and did something so horrible, I swear I could feel a tear on my skin.
I came behind the man and plunged my knife beside his spine.
The man cried out in pain, and flung his arms around, trying to attack me.
But to no avail.
I drug the knife down his back, making a neat, verticle line.
The child was covered in the beast's blood. I threw the carcass aside and adressed the child.
"Who are you?" the child asked on the rooftop.
"I am Merci de Angelo," I replied. "The Angel of Mercy"
With the child on my back, we lept through the night, searching for others in need of Merci.
***
Did you die a little? A lot? Just tell me you died. Because this was mercy.
You do NOT want to see fury.