[removed]

Everyone has their passions and hobbies. My passion was always to kill, now before you get all spooked, and start thinking of me as some sort of animal that can't control himself or a master mind of crime like Hannibal Lecter, don't. I am just a regular guy, like any other, except that what I love is to kill, the sensation of power, is inebriating, I can kill in almost any way, but my favorite has always been to stab people, the warmth of their blood on my hands and body, watching as the life slowly leaves the body it is just thrilling.

Unfortunately for me I am just a regular guy at the time living in Kansas, USA... well needless to say I got caught pretty fast. There was only Meredith, Samantha, Richard and Amy. Ah Amy she was I cop, maybe that's too generous, she was a fresh out of the academy police officer that caught me stabbing Richard to death, she was very pretty, and young, usually younger than I would kill. See I have a rule never kill anyone younger than 23 or older than 55, I told you I am not a monster.

Well Amy was an exception and unfortunate one, it was self-defense I promise, she had her gun pointed at me, there was nothing I could do. I told her to leave, she didn't well and that was that.

They arrested me, but in a lucky turn of events the bus they were using to take me to prison got into an accident and I managed to scape, and whilst on the run I came across this ranch. Owned by this man Lennard he was an Everest enthusiast had reached the summit once in his life when he was young and was dying to do it again he said, however he was trapped in a wheelchair, we made a deal, he got me out of the country and I would get him to the summit.

He wasn't a particularly rich man, but he also didn't expect to come back from his trip, so we sold his ranch and all of his belongings and just to cut the story short he smuggled me out of the country and into Nepal, was not a very pleasant place, very cold but you get used to it, once there I helped him to climb, he had barely any movement on hist legs and it took us too much time, see I had planned to steal lennards identity, but someone better came along, a sweet man, american, named Jeremy that was a guide to the mountain, not a hole lot of people knew him and he had a similar built to mine... if I twiked some things, you see Jeremy was a good man and he decided to help us in our undertaking, he help me to basically carry the old men up the mountain. Well you are an experienced climber so you must know how difficult it is to climb this mountain even on your own, let alone carring someone... so unfortunately neither of them got to the summit, sadly the old men died halfway up the mountain, one night at the camp. And after that I convinced Jeremy to help me to carry his corpse to the summit, he was so naive. We left the camp carrying the body telling our sad story, how Lennard had been loke a father to me and that was his dying wish. As soon as we were alone, I mean obviously most climbers were way faster than us, I dropped myself in the snow Jeremy came to check on me and I stabbed him. Using a knife with these cloves not easy and Jeremy whe he noticed foght back well needless to say who won. I took his clothes and jeremy fell to his demise and the old men, well I carried him into a corner out of the track and left him there. It was a huge risk to take, but I stayed up there for a while until it was almost night... It was horrible I nearly froze to death, then I dragged myself back to camp hurt and with some frostbite. Telling a tale of misfortune were the man I was guiding, what I great man that was, even when night fell he still wanted to take Lennard up the mountain I told him it was a crazy and reckless idea. But he wouldn't listen, the night fell a d the wind was too strong, he tripped and fell. I tried to save him and nearly died myself. It was truly tragic, and everyone bought it.

I have been Jeremy for the last 5 years now, the pay check as a guide isn't amazing but I can get by, and you know how deadly this mountain can be, it's not uncommon for people to go missing every now and then. Everyhing was fine until you came along and started digging....

To be continued

I’m excited to read more this is the best one yet

(BAD END)

"K-Kurina..." Erebus stammered out.

"Yes?"

"I...I've made my decision."

Kurina flicked open his watch and sighed as the trembling hands of Erebus steadied themselves.

"Very well, Erebus." He spoke with a hint of sorrow in his voice.

"I-"

Bang!

Thud!

"I'm sorry, Jacob. I let you down." Kurina spoke apologetically as he watched blood trickle out from Erebus' forehead. His job done, Kurina quickly put away his silenced gun and left the scene.

"I hope you find peace, wherever you may be...grandson."

(Good end will come tmr, I gotta sleep)

He was in a bind…

A rugged-looking man with a scar over his right cheek was sitting with a group of men and women, laughing with them as they ate. They were the man's closest friends...and sitting right beside him, with his arm over her slender shoulder, was his blonde-haired wife. Soon, a child with a party cap sauntered over to their table and approached the man's wife.

"Mom, when can we eat the cake? I want to eat cake now..." The child asked.

"Maybe later, honey. Mom's still talking with her grown-up friends." The blonde-haired woman replied as gently as a loving mother could.

"But I want to eat cake now..." The child whined lightly. "I already finished my dinner."

At this juncture, the rugged man got up from his seat and approached the child.

"I guess my little birthday boy should get the first slice, then."

At the man's words, the boy beamed.

"Yay! Thanks, dad!"

"No problem, bud. Come along now, Dennis."

The rugged man then led his son towards the massive chocolate cake situated on a long table as the other guests continued enjoying their night, completely unaware that someone else was watching them all...and was not pleased at all, with what they are seeing.

I felt my veins bulge as I looked at this sickening sight before me. My anger....my only true companion...began to bubble up as I looked through the scope of my rifle...as I looked at the man who killed my father enjoy a life that he should never have gotten. I took a deep breath to calm my nerves...relax my body. I have to make sure I plant one right between his eyes...return to him the wound he gave my father that fateful night 16 years ago...

exhale

I've never forgotten that day since...and I never planned to until I finally see him dead and bleeding at my feet. Now...after over a decade of training and preparation, it's finally time. "Say goodnight, you filthy animal." I sque-

"Hold it."

I freeze. My crosshairs were knocked a few millimeters off-target, and I quickly lost my opening.

"Fuck." I swore as I turned to face the man who threw me off. "Why the hell are you here?"

A large man wearing a brown trench coat and a brown fedora was standing just beside the sniper. He had a muscular build, and half of his face was obscured by an unnaturally dark shadow cast by his nondescript fedora. The vengeful sharpshooter looked startled as he realized how close the man was, but his shock was quickly replaced by annoyance.

"I thought you wouldn't interfere with my decision, Kurina." The sniper harshly spoke.

"I didn't." The large man named Kurina then folded his massive arms over his chest as he looked at the same thing the sniper was looking at. "I simply gave you time to truly make a decision, Erebus."

"Well I was about to, damn it! You nearly made me miss!" Erebus angrily replied.

"But you didn't." Kurina smiled. "As if one of ol' Gungnir's students were nothing less than excellent snipers."

Erebus snarled as he re-adjusted his weapon, aiming it at the rugged man's head yet again as he spent time with his boy. Kurina unfolded his hands and pulled out an ornate pocket watch made of gold and flicked it open to look at the time.

"Why are you really here, old man?" Erebus spoke rudely. "You finally decided to go back on your word to help me?"

"No. I promised to help you get rid of this problem of yours and that's that."

"Tch. Then fuck off and let me-"

"I'm not finished yet, Erebus."

Whether out of fear for the sudden change in tone or out of habit, Erebus flinched and did as he was told. Kurina shut his pocket watch and squatted down so he'd be closer to the sniper.

"The problem with you, Erebus, is not the man in your scopes right now." Kurina then turned his head towards the sniper laying prone on the ground. "It's your decade-old hatred."

Upon hearing this, Erebus sighed and rolled his eyes.

"Oh great, I'm being lectured by the world's greatest assassin like I'm some fucking child. Please, let us hear the wise words of Kurina the saint, a man who is totally not guilty of the blood of thousands and definitely does not have a seven digit body count." Erebus mockingly said as he stabilized his weapon.

"You are a child. Even after 16 years have passed, you're still the same child as I found you all those years ago...when you cried for your father as he lay dead and bleeding in the living room of your home-"

SMACK!

Kurina effortlessly blocked a backhanded punch from Erebus. His gloved hand didn't even flinch. The massive man moved nimbly, taking a few steps away as the furious sniper left his nest and stood up to face him.

"You better shut the hell up and leave me alone, old man. I'm going to kill this fucker for what he did and you can't stop me!" Tears were now streaming down the cheeks of Erebus. "Don't make me fucking kill you too."

"You can't kill me even if you tried and you know it." Kurina spoke so calmly and confidently, as if he was speaking facts. You're just saying things you don't mean out of anger at this point. Simmer down and think this through, Erebus."

In response, Erebus quickly pulled out a gun and aimed it at Kurina. The man simply stood still, unbothered and lightly fiddling his pocket watch with his thumb.

"You think I won't do it, old man?! Do not deny me my revenge!"

Kurina sighed. "Look at you. You are so pitiful. So consumed with anger..."

Erebus quickly cocked the hammer of his gun.

"That you can't even think straight anymore." The man's voice was filled with nothing but pity for Erebus.

"This is your fault, Kurina! Stop pissing me off and just get the fuck out of here before you regret it!" Despite his attempts to sound threatening, Erebus' quiet sobs and shaky hands betray him. He was on the verge of breaking, and Kurina knows it.

"I'm not leaving because I don't want YOU to do something you'll regret, Jacob." Kurina addressed Erebus by his real name.

Erebus flinched, and Kurina continued speaking.

"Frederick is no longer the same man who killed your father, Jason. He's changed. He's no longer someone who deserves to die. He regretted killing your father. It was why he let himself be arrested. It was why he became a family man, beloved by many. If a horrible person like that could change for the better, why can't you?" Kurina spoke gently as his left arm entered his coat's pocket, fiddling with something beneath.

"What the fuck are you trying to make me do, then? Forgive and forget? Forget the shit that fucker did to me?!"

"...It's the only way this will end well for you. For everyone involved." sighs "You're still young, Jacob. You still have a life ahead of you. That is why you should no longer be shackled to the past. Just let go...and move on."

Erebus continued crying in silence while Kurina remained motionless.

"I...I can't...I can't, Kurina, I-"

"Just make the choice, Erebus. Whatever it may be, know this: I will be here to help you get what you need to finally bring yourself peace of mind..."

Erebus sobbed as he thought long and hard on what to do, his gun still shakily aimed towards Kurina. Eventually, he finally reached a conclusion.

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"Please don't do this." she sobbed.

"I said the same thing," I whispered, pressing the muzzle of my gun into the forehead of the man kneeling before me, "just before this bastard here killed my father right before my eyes."

"Daddy," one of the children cried, and my heart clenched. I was there too, a lifetime ago.

"I know," the woman – his wife I presume, huddling with their three children on the other side of the dining table – whispered. "I know everything, and I'm so sorry. And I understand."

"Hmmm." I grunted. Well, this was new. I spent years hunting down my father's killer. I discovered that his assassin was both highly skilled and highly prolific, which made everyone I encountered rather reluctant to surrender any information. I employed methods that helped, shall we say, grease the wheels of communication, but those that resisted often resorted to threats, begging, bargaining, anything to delay the inevitable. I expected his family to react much the same way. Threaten, beg, bargain all the stages of grief rather unique to situations like this.

Acceptance usually isn't a player in this game.

"You can kill me," the man whispered. I knew his name, but I like keeping things anonymous. You lose some romance and mystery if you know too much sometimes.

"Don't need your permission." I responded flatly. I unlocked my safety.

"Just don't kill me in front of my family," he begged, "they don't need to see this."

"Where was that consideration all those years ago?" I sneered. Behind me, I could hear the eldest daughter shush her siblings and tell them to cover their eyes.

"Aaron," he whispered, and then his voice broke. "You're all grown up now."

"Aaron, you loved cars. Your father bought you a radio controlled car for your birthday and he brought you to the park, every Saturday, and let you drive it around. He loved you so much he even bought a car for your best friend Fred, so you guys could race together sometimes. He'd do an announcer voice and narrate when you made sharp turns, when your car flew over the finish line he made out of paper cups and take out chop sticks with bits of cloth strewn between. He'd take you out for your favorite breakfast afterwards - a bagel with lox. You had such grown up tastes for a kid! He dropped you off school every morning and always said if you do your best, everything else will follow. You didn't live that far from school, only a few blocks, but he loved spending as much time with you as he could, because your mom died when you were so young, and you were his whole world. He had a picture of both of you on his desk. He never stopped loving her, which really pissed off Janine from Accounting. He left work early three days a week to pick you up from school, the other days were your grandma's days, and he always went straight to your school from work, except Fridays, when he'd stop off at home first to set up a surprise for you and wait for you to walk back to your neighborhood with Fred."

"And that was the perfect time to kill him. Wait for him to get back, try to kill him before you returned from school. Because your dad knew something, you see. He knew someone at his aviation company had approved something that should not have been approved, and people died. That person tried to give him money if he'd stay quiet, and oh god it was so much money, it would have changed your lives, but your father wanted to do the right thing. And he was going to testify, bring them justice. And I, I..."

The man began to cry. I tried not to roll my eyes. I knew this speech was coming.

"Your father made me want to be a better man," he continued, "I'm an active member in my community. Every time there's a snowstorm, I'm the one shoveling my neighbor's driveways. I volunteer in a soup kitchen once a month. When Greg down the block died from cancer like your mother did, I organized a fundraiser for his widow, so she could cover her mortgage payments for a year! And I convinced that beautiful woman standing there behind you to marry me, have children with me. They're the light of my life, just like I know you were the light of your father's life. I always think back to those days I tailed your father and saw how much he loved you, how he always tried to do the right thing. And I strive to be that person, each and every day."

He paused, then said, a little too smugly for my taste: "I'm sure you did your research, Aaron. That's how you found me. You know I'm known throughout my community for my kindness and generosity."

"You never turned yourself in though." I pointed out.

The man stop. Sputtered.

"Well I...I thought the best way to honor my victims was to pay it forward. Live a good life, do right by my community."

"And rob your victims's families of any chance of closure. May I remind you of what you did?" My mocking voice got a little sing-songy

"Hey," he screamed, "your dad could have suffered, the contract specifically asked for torture, but I made it fast! True, because you walked in, but he just got a bullet to the head! I took a pay cut!"

"Wow, you skipped the torture," I said sarcastically, "Such hero. Much sacrifice."

"And I let the kid live! I'm a good guy now," he responded hotly. "I recycle!"

With a flurry and agility honed from years of practice, he grabbed my gun, swept my legs out from under me, and knocked me to the ground.

Blinding beams of light flooded the dining room.

"Drop it!" FBI swat agents poured in, seemingly from every direction. The man covered his face while his family, still huddled together at the other end of the dining table, screamed.

"Get the kids out of here," I groaned from the floor, "And make sure they're okay. They didn't do anything wrong. But you–" I pointed at his wife, "you do realize you admitted to knowing about his murders, right?"

"We got it all on audio recording, Aaron," an agent reached down and pulled me to my feet. "It's over, finally. We got him buddy."

"Thanks, Fred."

I closed my eyes, allowing myself to cry.

"Love you, dad."

"Laurent Gbagbo takes over as president of Côte d'Ivoire following a popular uprising against President Robert Guéï. Bret Hart retires."

So Jesus sent this guy back in time to become a warlord of the Ivory Coast.

Hmmm.

I’d spent twenty years on the design and another ten years begging, borrowing, and stealing for the nuclear fuel and capacitors, all for one shot. Mercifully, all the time spent waiting in dark Bulgarian alleys, fields in Kazakhstan, and in the foothills of Pakistan gave me lots of time to think about how I would use the machine. There was no way to travel more than about 2,200 years in the past due to load calculations. Odds of a capacitor failing were high and there wouldn’t be enough time to make another from scratch before I died even if I had all my tools and equipment from a few years in the past. My hands were withered, my body twisted by the time and effort. I’d given everything for this moment and I wanted it to count. I shipped the machine to Israel.

It was no small feat getting radioactive material past the inspections. The last of my money went to bribes and all the lead shielding, but, finally, I stood by Galilee next to the rusted shipping container holding my machine, the gentle lapping of water by my feet as the engine’s low whine steadily rose in pitch.

I entered the tiny hatch and crammed myself inside. Instruments and displays jammed uncomfortably into me as the whine became deafening. The year was set. A small light on the panel shifted to yellow, then green. I felt my finger depress a key and there was a loud bang, tremendous disorientation, then… nothing.

I came to in the dark, gently rocking back and forth. I was alive! As I cracked the hatch, smells of ozone and burnt plastic gave way to the soft spice of spring wind. The shore was barely visible in moonlight. Of course! Galilee was deeper then! A foolish oversight. I removed a small life vest from the seat, my carefully chosen robes, and a small, inflatable raft and began to tow my creation to shore.

A few carefully placed cloths concealed my work and I stood, exhausted on the shore. A couple of young men had come down to the shore to push off and regarded my elderly bedraggled form quizzically. They spoke in… Aramaic? I’d had to make choices about what I studied. I responded in Koine Greek.

“I am looking for someone. Can you help me?”

The first man glanced at the second who spoke up in heavily accented Greek.

“You’re a traveler?”

Success! I responded.

“Yes. I have come to seek the one they call Jesus of Nazareth. Does he teach here?” I held out a coin I’d paid a small fortune to obtain at a pawn shop as a tip for information. The man affirmed. “I have half now, half when we get to him.”

Fishers must have been as poor as it was recorded as both men enthusiastically led me further down the shore. It was a mercy their Greek was so poor that I didn’t have to explain my own stilted skills or attempt to fall back to my high school Latin. They were quite hospitable, fed me, and allowed me to ride in their cart as they led the ass along a Roman road. What a privilege to see one with my own eyes. The past! I could scarcely drink it all in before I heard an increasing din of a crowd.

There had to be two thousand or more people all waiting on a hillside. Children playing, old men gesturing angrily, and others seem to have made a picnic out of it. After a few confirming conversations, I paid my guides who enthusiastically made their way from me into the crowd. I would be unlikely to last here; strange food, strange disease, cultural misunderstandings, broken equipment, but it would be worth it. In moments, I would see Him.

“YOU!”

A voice boomed in Greek over the din and the crowd silenced.

“YOU!”

All eyes turned to a slight man with a small entourage emerging down by the shore. Could it be?

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?!”

I suddenly became aware of this man’s outstretched hand, pointing my way. Members of the crowd fell prostrate as this man walked past.

“YOU DO NOT BELONG!” That… was not in Greek. That was accented… Latin?

The crowd parted and suddenly I was aware of this man’s fixated eyes as he marched toward me, seemingly blind to his followers. I was too frightened to speak.

“You are out of place, traveler.” Not Latin… Italian? He looked frustrated at my face. Then he spoke in halting English, “You understand me now?”

I nodded. It seemed the world stood silent around me.

“No much time. You… break it all. You go. Back to your machine.”

I stammered in English. “Y.. you know me?”

“I heard of you. Told to look for you here. Father watches. You go back to your machine NOW!”

(I’ll add more shortly. Off to work!)

It was a rushed decision, but after using all his logic building this machine, faith took control and he just knew where he wanted to go first. As soon as the flash of light blinded him, he felt his weight pulling him down as he started to fall. Still blinded he felt the impact and how his shin snapped. Agony got there before his sight, so he was graving his broken leg screaming in pain when he noticed where he was laying.

He knew the land would be different and some variation must have occurred in over 2000 years, he did the math and tweaked the machine so he would appear near Jerusalem in the year 32. But he never thought he will fall 9 meters right in the middle of town.

People were already forming a circle around him and kids were hiding behind their mother's skirts. Pain was excruciating and tears mixed with sand were blinding him a little, but he managed to see the tanned and bearded faces of people around, some scared and others curious. Someone shouted something and he felt as two strong armes lifted him and started pulling him away, unconcerned about his leg hitting the ground leaving a bloody trail. Some screamed scared and run to tell what they saw, others just went on with their lives.

A door closed and someone asked him something but he didn't understand. Of course he didn't. "How stupid of me" he thought after realizing he jumped in time thousand of years back without even taking a dictionary. He managed to open his eyes and clean off some dirt and found himself in a room with the drapes closed. Three men were watching him and sharing strange looks, as a woman stood close to the door looking at him in awe. One other was in the corner, talking and pacing back and forth. He looked ragged and covered in dirt, his hair a mess and the beard long. seemed furious, moving his arms and pointing him a couple of times. Suddenly he saw as the man turned and looked him in the eyes. As the man approached he felt scared and attempted to run only to get held tighter by the three men. The ragged man got close, muttered something and kicked his leg. When he was about to scream in pain all he felt was a sudden numbness and then nothing. He looked down to se his bloody leg with the bone back in place and a redness where once was a deep wound.

"You shouldn't be here" I said after tuning in to his dialect. "I'm tired of fanatics jumping back in time and ruining everything for me. You know how hard it is to make people love you and then hate you the next day?" He was looking at me holding his leg, dumbfounded. "Other have arrived at better times but you had to get here right today, right?" I yelled at him again. "I don't... I don't understand. My lord?" He said mumbling. "Yes you stupid weak" I replied. "It's me, Yeshúa, Jesus, Jesús, whatever you call in your time the son of god" It was tiring. "But not in this timeline anymore thanks to you. Now those people out there think I invoked you from the heavens, or you are some angel, or whatever. And that will only reinforce their faith in me" I reached images ahead of time and peaked at the future. "Ooh yes, this one is rich. Rome comes to get me in a couple of months so I can invoke for them an army: they take me, kill me after failing to do so, my followers revolt and are killed.... And that's the end of Christianity thanks to you" The man was muttering confused, asking for forgiveness and trying to understand at the same time. " Enough of your nonsense " I finally said. "I'm tired of you people" Right then the machine started to pull him back and a tear opened behind him. But right when it was pulling him inside, I graved him by the shoulder and closed the tear. "Ow no, not this time. The last one was the last person I promise to send back. You are staying and helping me to make this less painful for me"

The ragged man spoke to the bulkiest of the three man back in their dialect and he took me, and dragged me back to the streets, where people muttering and cheered as we went out.

Yes. Jesus teleported a guy there.

Ah, I’m just gonna blame the main character on that one for being untrustworthy. Thx for reading though

Uhm did something happen 26th of October 2000

I think you've got your biblical timeline a bit off, Moses was Old Testament. Every Jewish fella would know who he was.

The devil did have to go down to Georgia after all

Jerusalem, 2000 years before it all got out of hand. The mission my superiors had sent me on was clear and simple. Take a picture of Jesus Christ and confirm his existence then get the computer in the 70s. Easy. I didn’t stand out. I wore the same clothes as the folks around me. Perhaps the colour of my skin was a bit out of place, but nobody seemed to notice.

“Son, hurry up. You have only half an hour left to finish your mission. We can’t risk you getting stuck in the past. We won’t risk another H.G. Wells, besides there is more to do. We need you to find the 1975 computer as well. This is just our little side project,” the general told me as I felt his voice inside of my head. The past does have its advantages. At least there were no forced microchips in the heads of these people. “Sir, yes, sir,” I quickly answered.

I saw a crowd surrounding a dark, tall man. His beard seemed clean, so did his long black hair. The man spoke in a language which I did not understand. It was time for modern technology to do its thing. I snapped four times with my fingers. The translation machine immediately did what it was meant to do. Could this be him?

“You must love the Lord your God with all your heart, all your soul, and all your mind,” the intriguing man said to a young boy. His voice sounded a bit peculiar. I tapped twice on my forehead in a specific manner to get in contact with the general. “General, this man is preaching the bible. Could this be him?” I asked as the camera seemed to confirm my suspicions as well. “Positive, son. Take the picture and get the hell out of there,” he answered.

I took out the camera and took a few pictures of the man who I assumed was Jesus Christ. It was done. The mission had succeeded. As I walked out of there, I decided to look at the pictures. The man had stared right at the lens of the camera. Twice. This was odd, but nothing uncommon. I mean, Napoleon had stared at the camera and everything was fine after that. Same goes for Alexander The Great.

“Sir, I got the pictures. The software is positive, this is Jesus Christ. Take me back.” “Sending you back now, Fredrick. Well done!” The general sounded enthusiastic. Just then I felt a huge electric shock in my head. I dropped the camera and it was immediately broken. Damn it, Apple…

“What is this?” A man with strong facial features asked. Did this man follow me? “Nothing of interest to you,” I quickly answered as I grabbed the broken camera. The camera still seemed to work just a little bit. It recognized the person in front of me as Judas! Incredible. “You’re Judas?” I asked way too quickly. “Yes, I am,” he answered. He didn’t seem to be surprised. “Who are you?” he asked. Suddenly we both heard footsteps quickly coming towards us. It was him. It was Jesus.

“What in tarnation is the meaning of this? What are you doing here?” he asked. He seemed incredibly angry with me. I decided to play it off. “Jesus, you want me to-“ Judas asked as he was interrupted. “Leave, please,” he responded. Judas left as Jesus turned to me. I decided to answer him. “Messias, I came to gander upon your greatness. I believe in Him as well.” “Perhaps you do, perhaps you don’t,” he answered as the camera went out of my hands into his. He didn’t reach for it. It moved out of itself. After that I felt a huge headache for just a few seconds.

“Your technology is destroyed,” Jesus told me. I was a bit angry now. “My Lord? What do you mean? I came here to reassure the future human race of your existence. Why would you deny us of your existence?! This is preposterous!” I responded. “No. We’ve all been warned of your kind. Mohammed, Moses, me. We know of you. We’ve been warned.” This frightened me to my core. What was this being truly capable of? What did he know? I thought religion was some sort of joke. Not only does Jesus know that I’m from the future, but he also knows of Mohammed and Moses. How? I am not really a true believer, but is Jesus really God?

“Jesus, how do you know all of this?” I asked. He didn’t answer me. Instead he touched the place between my eyebrows. Shocks went through my body as I was teleported. I felt it.

I opened my eyes. Planes flew above me. Cars honked as I quickly walked away. Where was I? I sped towards a trash bin where I found a paper. October 26, 2000… This is bad. I need to fix my time travel method…

I'll like to see the aftermath, since he basically killed the worlds most wonderful person by the rest of the populace. Leaving a son fatherless traumatized and a loving wife a widow.

That's for part 2, if anyone wants it.

How would the killers son and the rest of the community do against the avenger now ?

What do you think would happen in the aftermath ?

I sat on the crowded train, glad I managed to swindle my way into a comfy window seat by a sleeping buisness man. The condensation dripped from my fresh can of coke. The Christmas advertising saw to it that the drips ran over Santa's jolly face upon the aluminium. "Hello, fat man." I whispered flatly to myself, just loud enough for a nearby child to hear and giggle a little. I was tempted to look over to see their expression of amusement, but I was otherwise transfixed on the blur of dazzling Christmas lights speeding past the window in the night.

My mind wanders back to that night my father was taken from me. He lay in the snow angel of blood by the crumpled recycling bin, refuse covered two gardens. The lights of a police car had woken me. Red, like his blood. Blue, like I knew, there would be no happiness this year. Red, my anger built to boiling point. Blue, the man's face will be dead and blue when I find him. The officer said that there were no tire tracks due to the ice, so there was no way of finding who killed my dad. But I had my trail cam set up that night, and I know who done it.

Ten years on, and I had his address, the train ticket, and my shotgun. I don't care about the rumours that he's the best man ever, so kind and generous, I know his true colours. Murderous bastard! Not long now, and I will have my revenge.

I stepped onto his porch made of solid slate. The large solid oak door stood like a Fort before a besieging army infant of me. I knew its weaknesses, having studied the locks and picked my way inside in ten minutes. I was in. Everything screamed luxury, the floors, the lights, even the coats on the coat rack. My dad was surrounded by dirt, and he was surrounded by pearls and diamonds. The thought and adrenaline made me feel sick. The noise of laughter came from the living room, and I followed it with my shotgun ready. The sounds of a rolling fire crept around the open door before me, and I nudged it open with the barrel of the gun.

There he was, kneeling by the fire in front of a victorian armchair that hugged around his gorgeous wife and something I hadn't planned on. Upon her knee sat a young boy, he was learning to tie his shoes from his father.

I knocked a vase, and they looked at me in tandem, shock smeared their once joyous faces. I couldn't back down now. I raised my shotgun and cooked it with a loud, CHICK CHICK, I looked him dead in the eye and asked, "Do you remember killing my father? Do you? Huh, Santa Claus?"

And like his reindeer, the bullets flew.

Personally I came in with mild interest for a writing prompt and came out educated on the basics of climbing everest and a new understanding of the dangers as well as the Sherpas.

So thank you! All that effort writing was definitely not wasted it was a good read!

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