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Without Reason
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Without Reason
Anger breeds hate and hate breeds evil. Unfortunately this perfect world breeds all three.
[983 words]
Sime Sheef
I'm a published teenage writer that has been writing short stories since the fall of 2005. I also write poetry and flash fiction. Usually, I tend to write fiction, more specifically fantasy, but have tried my hand at other genres. I am an honors student and plan on being a writer, missionary, and linguist. I am an actor, fencer, artist, and guitar player.
[September 2006]
Alone At Dawn (Short Stories) The tale of a man searching to resolve the pain of loosing the woman he loved. [957 words] [Fantasy]
Confortable Darkness (Short Stories) The world is dark and light is not welcome. It only pains the eyes. [996 words] [Fantasy]
To The Fullest (Short Stories) Peter has figured out how to drain the potential from every moment in life...but what will it cost him? [978 words] [Suspense]
Without Reason
Sime Sheef

Two figures stood in a courtyard furnished with statues and plants. One of the figures held a wooden staff in his hands, while the other had nothing in his hands and seemed to be trying to show it. The larger one took its staff and in one swift motion to the head, the smaller of the two figures was knocked down. “I’m tired of seeing your face, you waste!!” the larger one yelled.

“Please, Matt! Stop! Don’t! Please!” the smaller figure whimpered.

“Do you know what today is, Kyle?” Matt asked, once again hitting Kyle in the face with the blunt end of his staff. “Today is the day that I go to see the Shaman and you know what kind of advice I’m going to be asking for?” This time Matt kicked Kyle in the side with his steel plated boot. “I’m going to ask him if I should kill you.” he whispered.

The boy lying on the ground started to cry. What reason did I give my brother to hate me so much? he thought. Matt was standing directly over him now, waiting for another excuse to hit him. Kyle looked down at himself, his robe all bloodied. He looked up at his brother and his assailant, only a silhouette in the evening sun. A cool breeze was blowing, making his cuts sting.

Matt took both hands and started to spin his staff in a circle. “Got anything to say, boy?” he asked.

Staring into those cold and heartless eyes, Kyle replied, “Why do you hate me so much?” surprised he had said it out loud.

Matt stopped twirling his staff. Growling, he took it above his head and brought it down into Kyle’s stomach. Kyle screamed, spitting out blood. He tried to get away but was too dizzy to. Matt then answered his question, “Because, freak.” He brought the staff flying across Kyle’s face, leaving a gash mark seven inches long and a half an inch deep. The last blow knocked Kyle out and Matt thought that it was time to get ready. He walked away without a second thought.

After getting dressed, Matt went to the main hall and told the head master that he was leaving for the ruins. He set out with his staff, blood cleaned off, and wearing fresh clothes. He walked quickly, not daring to be late. The Shaman had agreed to talk separately with each of the boys from the outpost about their problems but wouldn’t speak with them if they were late. Also, the ever busy Shaman never stayed in the same parts of the ruins for too long, so, Matt still had to find him.

Matt arrived at the ruins right around dusk. He walked up the temple’s steps slowly, parts crumbling away as he went. Matt looked around for the Shaman’s tent but could only see broken walls and pillars. He wandered around, and after more light had faded, he saw a fire in the distance. He walked toward the light and found himself near the edge of the forest. The Shaman’s tent was three times as tall as Matt and probably just as wide. The flap was opened as if he was expected, revealing a fire ring in the center of the tent.

He walked up to the opening and was halted when a low, crisp voice said, “Stop there. What do you wish advice for?” The humanoid creature sat on his throne. He had four horns that stuck up through and down around his hood. His dog-like mouth and nose poked out of his hood’s shadow, and one of his hands, with sharp claws, clenched his staff with a blazing crystal fixed to the top.

“Sir…Sir, I” he stuttered, “I mean, I’m having a problem with someone. I’m tired of them and want them gone. What should I do?”

“What do you think you should do?” the creature asked calmly, not moving a muscle.

“I don’t know.” he answered, his head to the ground.

“What do you want to do?” the Shaman asked with an even lower, inquisitive voice.

Matt’s cold eyes shot upwards, head still bowed. “I want to kill him.”

“Why?” the Shaman asked angrily.

“Because I hate him.” Matt replied, squeezing his staff.

“Why? What is your reason?” it shouted, shaking in anger.

“Because!” Matt screamed. He looked down again. Whispering, he repeated himself, “Because.”

Matt suddenly turned around and walked out of the tent and away from the Shaman, stopping right outside. “Why do you care so much, anyway?” he screamed. He spun himself around, surprised to find his brother Kyle standing in front of him. The gash on his cheek was swollen and infected and scars and cuts lined the rest of his face.

“Because!” Kyle spit through a stream of tears.

“You followed me here!” Matt screamed.

“I wanted to know why you hate me so much but you have no reason, do you?” Kyle pleaded while crying.

Without thinking twice, Matt took his staff above his shoulder and swung. He hit Kyle in the temple. Kyle fell to the ground and blood flowed down a trail of tears. Not able to get up, he lie there in pain.

The Shaman stared at Matt. Matt raised his bloody staff and lunged toward the witness. Using the sharp end, he stabbed the creature in the chest. The Shaman, close to death, fell to his knees, gurgling blood. Matt jerked the staff out, killing him.

Matt stood over Kyle’s body, his staff on his shoulder, ready to serve the finishing blow. “It’s because everyone has always hated me, even the Shaman, but they have always loved you.” he said.

“But…but I love you.” Kyle replied. His eyes rolled backward and he died feeling alone and hated.

Matt’s eyes opened wide. Kyle was the only person that ever loved him and he killed him without reason. In tears, he picked up Kyle’s limp body and for the first time he embraced his brother.



"Another good story and well written. Try to add more to your stories though. What was the setting? What school was this? Why did they go to the shaman? Why did Matt think everyone hated him?" -- Kasey.


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© 2006 Sime Sheef
September 2006

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