literature

He was a man of justice

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rociobelindamendez's avatar
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Literature Text


“Justice is served”, he mumbles to himself, while looking down, only to realise...

He was a man, a happy, family man. He loved his children, adored his wife, and his bad days were numbered.

He was a positive man, an honest man. He loved watching the 5am sunrise, he adored contemplating his woman, while she slept.

He was a kind man, a loyal man. He loved the smell of rain, he adored when his kids jumped on him every Sunday morning.

He was a simple man, a respectful man. He loved cooking breakfast for his family, he adored grazing feet with his wife, under the table.

He was a beautiful man, a caring man. He loved blasting classical music, he adored running his hands through his hair before bed.

He was a fun man, a humorous man. He loved the sound of laughter in his house, he adored chasing his kids around the table before dessert.

...


He was a lost man, a confused man. He awoke to find the balance, revoked. He was scared of the silence resonating, he turned cold when he saw all the blood.

He was a depressed man, an anxious man. He wondered if it could all be a nightmare, he hoped he would awake soon, he slept and awoke, slept and awoke.

He was a lonely man, a scarred man. He cuddled his pillows through the night, he slept in a pile of family photographs.

He was a fragile man, a strange man. He talked to himself in the shower, he let the water drip on his face as he sat under it, looking up, eyes wide open.

He was an angry man, a hurt man. He only wore a frown, his face full of tears, his hands in fists by his side.

He was a mad man, a determined man. He thought of a billion ways to make it right, a trillion ways to take revenge.

He was an obsessed man, a resolute man. He stayed up days on end, finding all the answers, planning every minuscule detail.

He was a crazy man, a sadistic man. He held a shovel, his hands dripped red, his face wore a smile, that seemed fallacious on his face.

“Justice is served”, he mumbled to himself, while looking down, only to realise...
He committed an injustice... to serve justice, and nothing at all was restored.



Rocio Belinda Mendez 2013
The thought of committing an injustice to bring justice came to me the other day, and i wanted to write something.. this is not what i expected to write, it came out very differently, but I like it.
© 2013 - 2024 rociobelindamendez
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RafeZweigun's avatar
This was interesting.

...If he killed the killer of his family... Well, I'd probably be in his position, verily so. There is no justice like justice served personally.