Ink-Stained Frustrations · Short Creations · Tales

WPR 17 – A Traitor’s Death

It was one of those days where your skin roasted for every second you were reached by the scorching rays of the sun. The heat alone seemed to make you want to fall to your knees to beg for your life. Shade provided some mild relief from the sizzling of your skin, but the ground in the sun radiated the incessant heat toward you regardless, making it seem impossible to escape.

The mid-day sun flashed off his blade, giving away his actions, as it swung viciously through the air.

“Traitor!” He screamed, as the blade fell.

I spun on the spot, dropping into a crouch, while bringing my own blade up to meet his, halting its course to my neck and subsequent death. I looked into his eyes that were filled with a blazing anger and fierce hate.

“What is your problem?” I asked, and then wondered why I bothered asking. His hate visibly filled his mind and distorted his reasoning. Why else would he be attacking me?

“You betrayed the community. You betrayed our families.” He hissed, seething.

“No,” I told him. “You did.”

I watched his anger, hate, and fear cling to him like a disease. In that moment, I made up my mind, I could not let this hate and anger infect the rest of the community. For the sake of their future, he would have to give up his.

The scorching heat remained relentless, drying up the blood now seeping into the cracked and dusty earth.


The mid-day sun flashed off his blade as it swung viciously through the air.

“Traitor!” He screamed.

Traitor – Promptuarium

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