Hatred
Hatred stories
  0
  •  
  0
  •   0 comments
Share

anon
anonAnonymously Published Stories
Autoplay OFF  •  8 months ago
I moved recently to a newly founded and quickly growing village, to try and get away from the city life. The city life was a great experience, but that's just what it was.
By Batmans_left_buttock https://www.reddit.com/r/...

Hatred

by Batmans_left_buttock

I moved recently to a newly founded and quickly growing village, to try and get away from the city life.

The city life was a great experience, but that's just what it was.

An experience.

I love the feeling of seclusion from the world.

So, I left.

When I arrived here I quickly realized the lack of medicinal knowledge, and rushed to their aid. The sick townsfolk were emaciated, ribs protruding from their bodies.

Their faces were gaunt, their cheekbones stuck outward like daggers.

Through great care, I nursed most back to health. I did what I could for everyone, but some just couldn't make it.

I taught those who were willing in the art of medicine, many tried but only some picked it up.

I felt like I had a purpose. I felt like I belonged.

I liked it here.

Years went by.

I got married, and had two beautiful children.

I enjoyed my work, and the company of the townsfolk.

I was happy.

Until they built a church.

Every time I looked upon those walls, I became uneasy.

The cathedral was built on a foundation of hate.

The walls were fashioned out of paranoia.

The roof, held up by lies.

The longer that church was there the more I knew that the townsfolk were becoming weary. Instead of trusting in medicine, they turned to prayer.

Hollow words mumbled to themselves that fell on deaf ears. They did nothing. Just prayed, and nothing happened.

Their wounded became corpses.

I could've saved them, I could've helped, but they didn't trust me anymore.

The pastor corrupted their minds with deceit.

He told them, that I was a liar. That I was a witch, and I practiced the dark arts.

Paranoia breeds fear.

Fear breeds hatred.

Hatred commits unspeakable acts.

I almost made it out. I almost got away with my family.

They stole me from my home, burned it to the ground in a blaze of hatred and ignorance. They hanged my family in front of me. I watched my children die.

I watched as the life left their eyes, and their lungs were starved of oxygen.

I watched as their bodies sway in the wind. A noose tightly coiled around their precious little throats.

The trees they were hung on are as lifeless as they are. Not a leaf to be found, branches decaying. Barren of life.

I looked away. I couldn't bear the sight of it any longer.

They grabbed me and they tied me to a wooden stake and set it ablaze.

The rope is constricting my blood flow, and I feel the lack of circulation in my appendages.

My skin is searing, and turning a charcoal black.

I feel weak, the pain is surging through my body.

Killed by the people I once helped, the people I called friend.

Those words invade my mind as I exert one final breath.

Paranoia breeds fear.

Fear breeds hatred.

Hatred commits unspeakable acts.

Stories We Think You'll Love
COMMENTS (0)
SHOUTOUTS (0)