The house of madness

Chapter twenty one: Guilty, guilty, guilty.

A figure sits, surrounded by darkness. He holds his sword in his hands, running one finger over the cold shiny blade. He wore a black hood and cloak so that his face was hidden in the shadows of his hood. It had took a while but he had found his next target. Someone guilty. Very guilty. The shadowy figure let a small maniacal grin creep across his face. He was mad, that was true but he had enough sense not do anything dumb. People were scrambling everywhere like ants trying to find him, the murderer of so many peacekeepers. Why were they trying to find him? They should be rejoicing that he had gotten rid of those evil ones. Well, some weren’t as evil. But he’d had to get rid of them too. They’d interacted with the targets. He scoffed. Guilty. Guilty, guilty, guilty. They would all receive the punishments they deserved. His finger came to the end of his sword and it cut the tip of his finger slightly. He held the cut finger up to his face and studied the cut with amusement. The guilty were like this cut. A bleeding open wound that people tried to fill but they continued to cut the wound more. There was only one way to close the cut. Get rid off the ones who cut the wound. He slid the sword into its place by his side and took a breath, trying to steady his hands. They were shaking hard. He would make them pay. All of them. Every single little guilty soul. He closed his eyes and began to sing softly in a ominous voice:

“Cruel and cold, like winds on the seas. Will you ever return to me? Hear my voice sing with the tide, our love will never die. Over waves and deep in the blue, I will give all my heart to you. Ten long years I wait to go by…. our love will never die….”

Captain Shortstacks was retired. He lived in a small manor all by himself except for the cook and his maids. He reached down and pulled on his tall boots. He always wore them because as much as he said he was not, he was short. Very short. He had a hard time getting in bed because he was so short. Captain Shortstacks walked into the kitchen. On the table in the kitchen was a teapot filled with fresh hot tea. Shortstacks grabbed a glass cup and poured himself some. He quietly sipped the tea, facing the window. It was stormy outside. Thunder rumbled loudly. “It took a while to find you. You’re a very elusive man for a “famous” British captain.” A voice said behind him. Captain Shortstacks dropped the glass cup in surprise. It shattered on impact with the floor. Captain Shortstacks spun around to see a cloaked figure. Shortstacks reached for his sword but it wasn’t there. Of course it wasn’t! The British officials took it saying something about him becoming a senile old man who didn’t need a weapon. The figure fingered his sword. Captain Shortstacks began to edge his way to the cabinet where the kitchen knives were. "What do you want?” Shortstacks asked, trying to buy time. The figure watched him calmly. “You were the British leader who sent the order to bomb Tortuga which y’all thought was a pirate city.” The figure said. Shortstacks was almost to the cabinet. “Yes.”

“But you knew that if wasn’t a pirate city didn’t you? You just wanted to destroy the island and build something new on top of it, maybe even in honor of your ‘bravery’. ” The figure asked accusingly. Shortstacks blinked. “W-what? How do you know that?” He slipped his hand around the knife drawer’s brass handle and began to pull it open slowly. “I know a lot of things. What you do in the dark when no one is looking never stays in the dark. NEVER.” The figure said. Captain Shortstacks yanked open the knife drawer to see…no knives. “What?!” Shortstacks exclaimed. Where had the knives gone. The figure moved across the room quickly and pressed Shortstacks against the wall, with a sword to his neck. “Any last words?” The figure asked. “Why-why are you doing this?” Shortstacks choked. “Why I thought you knew. The guilty ones always pay. And you good sir are guilty. Guilty, guilty, guilty.” Then Shortstacks vision went black and his head fell to the floor. The figure chucked and wiped the blood of his sword and walked past the drawer that was full of knives. “Guilty, guilty, guilty.”

-SunnyFox57.