This is a small fictional post from the story that I’m thinking/fixing up. I don’t know if this’ll do, so it’s just an idea. I’ll be posting a lot more of these random “snippets” for ideas. I haven’t really gotten the introduction quite right and because I don’t have the intro I can’t get myself to go on without it. I have several other ideas for intros but… I need some feedback on that.
I was once told that the human race was perfect because it was flawed. Well, flawed is completely right. But perfect? I don’t think so.
I’m told to respect others, to always give second chances, and to never think ill of anyone. I tried to follow those seemingly simple instructions. Tried to be nice, to be friendly, to do what a “good person” would do. Oh, but it’s so hard to do that.
It’s so hard to be me.
People stare, whether they think I’m as handsome as a god or as hideous as a sewer rat, and will automatically think and assume things that are truly and completely false. Like right at this moment. My face was starting to become numb from all the punches that were being thrown at me.
“Tell us what you’re up to, Lucifer! Where have you been hiding out all these years?” one of the men in crisp, but blood stained, black suits shouted at me. He threw another sucker punch to my face, making my head turn sharply to the right. I say sucker punch because he and his two friends tied me up to a chair.
“For the last fucking time,” I paused to spit out the blood that was gathering and seeping out from my mouth, glaring at the man who just hit me, “My name is not Lucifer! I have no idea what the fuck you’re talking about! Let me the fuck go!”
The man in the suit just leaned back and smirked at me. His eyes dark and thirsted to see more of my blood pool around me on the floor. “Sure,” he chuckled in a mocking way, making me wish I wasn’t tied up so I could punch him in the face. “And you’re going to tell me that you got amnesia? A crime lord like the infamous Lucifer doesn’t just disappear. I just want to know what you’re up to, that’s all.”
I was about to tell him the same thing I had been telling him for the past hour or so when he whipped out a photograph of a man that was obviously taken from far away. Like he was being spied on. He shoved the photo in my face, making me look at it since it was just an inch or so from my face and I couldn’t look anywhere else. “Who’s in this picture?” he asked me, shaking the photo.
The man in the photo had black hair and pale blue eyes. The man looked like me, but I know that it isn’t me.
“I don’t know who that is,” I answered honestly. Now, what do I get when I say the truth? Another sucker punch to the face.
“Shit!” I shouted, “What the fuck is wrong with you? The guy looks like me but it’s not me! Hello? That’s not uncommon!”
“Michael, I think that’s enough,” one of his two friends said from somewhere behind me.
“Yeah Michael, I think that’s enough,” I mocked, hiding my joy of learning his name. At least I had a name and a face to go for now, in case I still wanted to sucker punch him in the face.
“Fine,” Michael looked down at me with his dark blue eyes with a frown, “Knock him out and take him outside.”
“Knock me out? What?”
Too late.
