1 Culpa

The lands stood out before us. Its beauty shimmered on the translucent rivers before me. It was the perfect place to start. Keith had called out from the wagon we had rode. It was my time. I clutched my trusty axe and dove off into the nearest forest.

The forest, though dense, drew me in. It had felt as if someone- no. something was calling me. The insects hummed around me, intrigued on the disruption I had caused, but I ignored their curious harmonies and moved towards the sirens' wail.

I came to an opening. It stood before me, not a man, nor a beast but something I couldn't comprehend. Not yet anyway. Its eyes drew to the only thing akin to its nature. Me. It wandered towards me, the world caving into itself. It lent close and whispered. "Finally"

And then it was gone. The disruptor in this small world had left but that word lingered in my brain a bit. I shook it out and decided to think about it later. I felled a few trees before wandering out.

There on the plain sat Keith, my long time friend, who sat, pleasantly perusing the birds with only his eyes. The boars had been tethered down, their animalistic fury drove daggers at me as they tugged and heaved towards me, their captor. Their stares, though steely and strong, flicked with fear at my current visage.

I stumbled over to the nearest river and looked down. My bloody and bruised face reminded me of what I had done. I gritted my teeth. It's... not... my... fault. I splashed water onto my face, yet the blood came back more vivid.

In desperation, I tossed the axe as far away from me as possible. The axe sliced the boars. Their screams grew more and more louder. Keith drew from his pleasant future to my bleak present. And then I saw it. His neck gaped open and yet he sat there, unaffected.

He stood. His skeletal body scraping towards me as I shook. It was not my fault. It's not my fault. Not my fault. Not my... who am I kidding? I collapsed to the soggy ground, it swallowing me up as I delved more and more into mental depravity.

But my job wasn't done yet. I lay there in a puddle of my own filth. I just need to get my mind off things before I think about that. Anything to get my mind off that... the town, lets start that.

My hand struggled to grab a hold of a brick but I persisted and tore the brick from its home. Its family. I winced, I'll try to forget that. The boars woke me from my loathing, their squeals of terror called out to free them from their approaching demise.

But nobody came. Nobody came for vengeance for my transgressions. Nobody came to shout at me. Nobody to shed tears for who I have slain. Only me. 

I smiled. Had I finally gone insane? No. I've succeeded. Nobody cares for me. Nobody want to even be near me. I've killed the only person who cared for me and yet I smile. The mess of emotions just comes out as manufactured joy.

And then I got back to working. The city built by a murderer's claws. What would I call something like that. How about Culpa?