Eyes of Innocent

Gilt was seventeen by the time when he was turned into one of them. He didn’t know how it exactly happen, but he can still vividly remember, bit by bit what had taken place.

There was a bolt that sang past his ears. Then he saw several bolts streaked in the trees. He hunched behind the low depressed road in hope that they might come past him.

He peered at the road. Several torches flickered in the dark. People are barking with their blades and torch flaunting over the air.

Gilt knelt. He closed his eyes and grabbed his blood-drenched waistcoat. Each breath he took was sharp and his chest heave harder than ever.

Later on, the people turned their way in the opposite direction when they heard something in the bushes on the other side of the forest.

He moved. One corner at a time.