Young Writers Society

Prologue

Looking down the buzzing street, the crow prepared its common kraa. Despite the constant buzz of the rush hour, nothing seemed to be able to disturb it. Like the shadow of a long gone thought, the crow just sat on top of the golden cross, observing the city and its unaware inhabitants. From time to time, it would remind people of its existence, only to fade from their thoughts a moment later.

The Golden Gate was ground zero of the medieval city of Vladimir. Baring the name of a once great ruler, the city wore both the scars of centuries of violence and the memories of of ancient fame. The Golden Gate, towered over the city. White as the purest snow of Syberia, it reminded people of their power to endure and withstand all hardship. Through its towers it showed the world the unrelenting spirits of its creators and, through it golden cross and picture of the Holy Mother it called people back to their faith.

People and cars were rushing up and down, never stopping for a second to think what they were doing. Never questioning where were their lives going, what would become of them once they were gone or even if anybody would remember them. Would they leave anything behind? Would they die unknown and unloved. Alone in a small apartment, smoking a cigar or drinking their last cup of tea? Would they make even one other human being smile? They didn't care about all that. For them life was simple. Go to work, pay the bills, make some nice food, meet friends once in a while.

He could not understand them. He could not understand how people could be so detached from anything of real meaning. How could they not see? How could they not understand how limited and petty they lived their lives. No real purpose. No love. No calling. No reason to keep moving day after day. They were just animals, living in huge colonies called cities, out of pure convenience and for sheltering themselves from natures wrath. But was that all there was? Nurturing your organism until the natural death of you biological body. Procreating in order to secure the survival of our species. Socializing with our fellow cohabitant in order to ensure a harmonious society... that how “clever” people talk nowadays. What a joke!

Reality was not what people were made to believe. What people chose to believe. There was no such thing as destiny, there was no such thing as biological life. Although it's easy to believe in that. Why take any responsibility when you could blame everything on destiny or biological program. You didn't cheat on her because you are an asshole. You cheated on her because men are programmed to procreate. You're brother didn't kill that little girl because he was driving 140 km/h while drunk. It was her destiny to die that day.

People were pathetic. None deserved the lives they were given. Wasting them away like they had ten. Drinking themselves to death. Defiling their bodies for a few Rubbles or just to tie some idiot to themselves.

We live in a time where people are completely disconnected to themselves and to God. Not the Christian God, nor the Muslim one. Despite centuries of killing each other for what they believed what the true God, everybody got it wrong. God was nothing. There was no God, nor was there a Satan. There was no Heaven nor was there Hell. They existed, sure. But they were nothing more than the two faces of the same coin called human.

God was the father who gave the last piece of bread to his son, even when he himself skipped eating. God was the mother who took the beating to protect her daughter. Flip the coin and you'll find the devil wearing the face of the wife who took everything from her husband but not the kid, or the face of the drunken husband who found no greater pleasure than to torture his family.

You could be born in a good family, find a beautiful girl to make your wife and one day you could find yourself in a hotel room, waking up next to her warm body, kiss her lips and think yourself in Heaven. On the same day, a nine years old boy wakes up and starts scavenging for food after last night's bombardment killed his baby sister. Would you consider that Hell?

If people could only wake up and realize that all the power to make changes was in their hands. If they just stopped being hooked to their own drugs and began to be honest to themselves and to others. Things could have being some much better. People could have being so much happier. But that was never going to happen. He understood that very well until now.

Matey loathed people. So much in fact, that he struggled to go to work and face his work mates. He didn't hate somebody in particular, just everybody in general. He couldn't even remember when did he start to hate them that much. To be honest, he was never a people's person. People were just making him tired. He never had a lot of friends as a young boy and that pattern followed into his adult life. He thought at some point, even his family had given up on him.

Matey was 38 or 37... somewhere around there. Maybe 39? He worked as a manager for a big energy company. Basically he sold his soul to the devil for 55.00 Rubbles a month. Not a very good trade but it could have been worse. At least he didn't have to borrow money for rent. He could give hide in his room without having to think of anything.

Having gotten away from work a bit earlier, the he was sipping a cafe in front of the Golden Gate, watching the crow on top of the building. It looked strange against the milky white sky. A single black spot on a blank canvas, as if somebody decided it was a good idea to drill a hole in the sky. From time to time, the hole made a sound, but nobody had the time to look at it.

It was freezing, despite the hot coffee he kept pouring into his mouth. It made him wonder what took Anya so long. He had been waiting for fifteen minutes already. He knew this was going to happen and even though it pissed him off every single time, he still couldn't bring himself to tell it to her face.

Anya was a university mate. They had studied business management together and that was it. One day she came to a class, sat next to him and then ignored him for the rest of the year. They had to work together on some group projects the following year and slowly became close friends. An event that sent shock waves through all his relatives. One crazy aunt even forced him to follow her to the church and swear in front of the priest with the hand on the Bible that he would never hurt Anya in any way, shape or form.

Anya was almost as tall as him and had the darkest brown eyes you could find in Vladimir. With her short black hair and her peaceful personality, she could calm down even a blood thirsty bull. Obviously, she was quite popular in university and could never complain of lacking the attention of guys. And yet, she decided to befriend the only guy most people were avoiding because everybody knew he was going to turn into a serial killer or something of the sort.

Matey could never understand her. But he was grateful. He felt peaceful in her presence. He wasn't sure how much darker he could have gotten, had she not come into his life. How much deeper could he have descended without really becoming a murder. Had she not come into his life, the long, thin scar on his cheek could have been a lot longer.

The sound of heels quickly trotting on the stone pavement, force him out of his dark thoughts. She was finally there. Looking up, he barely had the time to stand up before she clenched herself around his neck.

“So... should we go?” she asked.

“I guess.”