Red Shadow

Alasdair clutched his cloak as the wind picked up, snow falling softly to the sodden ground, it was mid-winter. His toes were beginning to numb as he finally neared his small cottage home. He could see the smoke rising from his chimney, and imagined the warm fire and smiling wife waiting there to greet him. He grinned absentmindedly, he had been gone almost three days now doing a job for the Dubhach’s, and could hardly wait to have his wife and small child in his arms again.

Lyah was barely two, Alasdair and his wife witnessed her first steps but a month back. Short curly blonde hair dangling in front of her bright blue eyes, gleaming with innocence, still only making sounds that were not quite words yet. It seemed as if just yesterday he and his wife were wrapping ribbon around their hands and dancing as newlyweds. 

Alasdair approached his home, dropping his satchel of dirty equipment outside the door, and pushed the thick wooden door open.

“Lyah, honey, I’m home!” he called as he walked straight to the hearth.

The fire was out, but recently, embers still glowed and smoke still rose. Alasdair was puzzled, and called for his wife again. He went around the corner to their bedroom, and immediately froze as he stepped in something wet and thick. He hesitated but looked down to see a pool of red, there was a trail leading to it’s origin in the bedroom. He gripped his small dagger, pulling it slowly from his belt as he approached the room. He dropped to his knees and wailed when he saw his wife, wide-eyed and mutilated on the floor. Her lifeless hand was reaching for something, and as Alasdair looked to his left he saw a bundle of blankets, covered in blood. He scrambled to grab the bundle, dropping his knife, hoping it was his daughter. 

Tears streaming down his face made it difficult for Alasdair to see, but as he gently pulled apart the blankets he found his daughter. Suddenly he felt a sharp pain in his shoulder, he whirled around clutching Lyah to him, and saw Fergus Dubhach grinning from ear to ear.

“Alasdair…” he hissed.

Before Alasdair could respond Fergus swung his sword, sinking it into Alasdair’s right leg. Alasdair groaned in agony, but still clutched Lyah to chest, nothing could make him lose his grip on his daughter. Blood was leaking from his wounds quickly, and Alasdair began to feel faint.

“She’s already dead” Fergus said “your daughter, why do you think she’s so quiet? I made it quick an-”

Alasdair leapt at him with all his strength left, but toppled to the ground almost immediately, sobbing he continued to cling to his daughter’s small lifeless body as he attempted to crawl away. The last thing Alasdair saw was Fergus’s evil twisted face and the red glimmer on his sword. 

…

Alasdair stirred, waking with the flooding feeling of hatred. He was in a dank cell, chained to the wall. His right leg throbbed, his head pounded, and his throat was raw from roaring and sobbing. His stomach churned when he saw the sloppy excuse for food in front him, all he could smell was piss and mold. He heard footsteps in the distance, slowly growing louder as they approached his cell.

“Well well, the infamous Red Shadow has been caught murdering his own family” a familiar voice spoke.

Fergus Dubhach appeared from the shadows with his father Henry and Judge Edenbaum. Suddenly Alasdair realized he had been framed by the same people who put him up to his last job, his breathe became short and his vision blurred as his sadness was replaced by rage. Fergus had a smug look on his face, which quickly changed when his father glanced at him.

The judge only pondered, then coughed as he said “You shall be condemned to the gallows on the morrow Alasdair, for the murder of your helpless wife and child in cold blood”.

Alasdair yanked against his chains in anger and winced at the pain in his leg and shoulder, he fell awkwardly to the ground taking ragged breathes as his vision began to fade again, the last thing he heard was the laughter of Fergus and Henry Dubhach.

…

Alasdair regained conscious. His vision was blurred, as if everything was smeared, the only color he could make out was red. Blood. Slowly he started to remember, and he roared in hatred with what little strength he had.

“Alasdair” he heard a deep voice speak “will no longer be your name”.

He glance around looking for the source of the voice when a hooded figure approached, seemingly surrounded by thick dark mist, and holding an enormous scythe, it’s hilt made of human remains.

“I am Death” the figured boomed, his voice shaking the ground, tiny pebbles vibrating all around Alasdair “and you are hence forth my shadow.”

Thank you for reading my story! This is actually the Prologue to a novel I have been working on, so I thought I would share it with you guys and get your thoughts! Would you be interested in reading more? Let me know in the comments! If you would like to read another one of my short stories, check out “This is Why I Don’t Like Halloween“!

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-WTF