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We’ve probably all heard how ‘villains are the heroes of their own story’ so, this month, I’d like you to strip your villains bare, leaving them exposed and vulnerable. Poke at them with a sharp stick through the bars of a cold, dark cell, ridicule their inadequacies, and ride roughshod over their sensitivities. I’ll be waiting for you to come back here and tell me EVERYTHING about why they became who they became.
Dig deep. Mine for villainous gold then parade your treasure here, in 400 words or less, by midnight on the 28th.
Elixir
The dead body in front of Santana was the second thing on his mind. Top spot went to conquering his nausea.
“You going to puke, man?” asked Jude.
Santana shook his head.
People plodded along the sidewalk, staring at the ground. A couple months ago, this street would be teeming with vendors selling fruit, but the new government ended that. They decided who did what.
“Was that necessary?” asked Santana. “He seemed contrite.”
“Don’t use words like that.”
“Like what?”
“Contrite. You not in an office anymore, kid. If you don’t want the guys laughing at you more than they already are, stick to words we get.”
Jude slipped a cigarette in his mouth, extended his greasy palm with the cancer sticks towards Santana.
Santana tucked one of the cigarettes behind his ear. “I’ll save it for later.”
Jude looked at the corpse. “We must keep people in check.”
The old government did the best they could with the mess they inherited. Give Santana the old government over this regime.
“You’re right,” said Santana.
Jude grabbed the corpse’s leg like Santana grabbing a turkey leg when such things were allowed. If Santana touched that cadaver, he was depositing his breakfast biscuits on the ground.
“I thought we’d leave him here,” said Santana.
Jude stared at Santana’s face, smirked. “You sure you’re cut out for this?”
A blackbird landed an inch away from the dead man’s shoulder, tilted its head, flew away. Lucky bird.
“Wouldn’t leaving the body here send a message?” asked Santana.
“There’s a certain village which needs this message. Take his other leg.”
Santana dusted his hands, cleared his throat, gripped the corpse’s leg. He retched.
Jude chuckled.
Santana looked at his mud-stained boots, warmth spreading across his cheeks.
“You’ve suffered enough.” Jude handed him a brown, thread-like clump. “That’ll help.”
He sniffed it. Gingerroot. Tossed it in his mouth. The spicy kick eased his nausea.
Jude said, “We know you got a weakness for coffee.”
Coffee was outlawed.
“I had. No more. I promise,” stammered Santana.
Jude patted his back. “Don’t worry. There are perks to being in the army. We got a lot at headquarters for you.”
He had not tasted the elixir in weeks.
He could immerse himself in the army and scratch out a decent life or suffer like the unfortunate.
Santana grabbed the corpse’s leg.
Word Count:392 words
Ted
The things that made Ted happy got a bit broken when he was little. After a while he grew accustomed to the fact that things wouldn’t go well for him, mainly because they often ended in bruises, or even the occasional broken bone. Nevertheless, in spite of everything, he grew strong. He soon discovered that if he didn’t want to go hungry he would have to take things away from those who had it.
When his stepfather started to get ill, Ted moved out. Later, he heard that he had died and he thought about visiting his mother. He even returned to the flat one day, but his mother wasn’t there anymore. But it didn’t really bother him.
Besides, he had started to enjoy taking things away from those who had it. Most of all, even more than taking stuff, Ted enjoyed taking away their happiness.
Well, I say ‘enjoyed’ but it’s nearer the truth to say that it sort of fed a need, or filled a gap. That is, when he didn’t do it, he was aware that he was empty. So, he always made sure to hand out an injury with every theft. Often, he would choose to do something disfiguring. If a boy or a girl seemed good looking, then a scar on the face was always good. If they could do something like play the guitar or make things, then broken fingers were the order of the day.
He learned.
He learned how to appear to fit in with the world he found himself in. Because he had a lot of practice at hurting and taking away, there were others who thought he was a very useful person to have around. They gave him money. They also gave him respect. Ted didn’t really understand respect, but he knew it was useful to take the money and pretend that he really did understand respect. He was good at pretending. Ted went a long way with only three simple skills. He knew how to hurt people and what would hurt them. He knew how to take things without being caught. He knew how to pretend.
I could tell you about how scared he was that his world might change, and that as he aged he tried to hold it back. He didn’t succeed. He grew old and eventually died.
It was as though he had never lived.
400 words with title
Thank you both for entering and I’m so sorry to keep you hanging on like this. To be honest, I found it really difficult to choose; I liked both of them in different ways. On this occasion (and because if I don’t stop prevaricating we’ll still be here next week) I’m going with Alex.
Great story Alex!
Thanks for the prompt @Seagreen. Gave me a chance to work out the back-story for one the main antagonists in my WIP.
@Athelstone, I enjoyed the story. Loved the justification for why he does what he does.
@Seagreen, great prompt. I’m motivated to return to working on the story for that antagonist.
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