Hammer
Matthew Ryan Fischer
Lightning shot through his veins and his joints felt like the wanted
to burst. He wanted to scream in pain as muscles convulsed. The pain was
sudden, unbearable and unprovoked. Neurological, psychological or physiological,
he did not know. The moment was unexpected and instant. He opened mouth to scream
and his eyes felt moist. He thought of his father and the pain he had see that
man bare. He did not cry, even when he only had the one good eye.
With gripped fists, he tightened his arm muscles. He dropped to
his knees and drove his fists down into the damp soil. He pressed down as hard
as he could and fought against the anguish. His back ached, his forearms felt like
they might snap, but he pushed harder. Fingers sore, knuckles dug deeper and
deeper, the soil relented.
His body felt old and weak and broken. There was no justice.
Nothing was fair. Grief was never ending. He had lost a part of him, gone
beyond repair. Where does it go, he asked himself. What do I become?
He was no one now. He had lost everything that was ever important.
He pushed against the earth harder.
There was no answer from above or below. No one to stop him. No
one to care.
He burst up from the ground, shooting forth with the lightning force
that had tortured his body. He erupted with energy and shot straight up into
the sky and was gone.
The ground was broken and cracked and burnt where the energy seared
the earth. The earth was scarred, the dirt turned and scattered, something
powerful pulled forth from below.
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