Inspired by: Sister

Let me tell you a story. This is how it all began:

He sidled along the sidewalk, kicking the pebbles on the street as he walked, when a large man with hirsute arms and leonine features stopped him. “How is life treating you, my young friend?” he boomed. The young man glowered at him and questioned his concern. “A man with his whole future ahead of him, displaying such a melancholic expression is cause for concern in itself, in my opinion.” The pedestrian was taken aback by his answer and realized that the person standing in front of him was a lot more eloquent than he appears.

The large man then told him that his name was Leon Sanders and that he was visiting his sick mother in the hospital. “How can you be concerned about someone that you don’t even know when your own mother is bedridden in the hospital?” The distressed youngster asked him after he introduced himself. “I feel that everyone has their own share of problems and that some find a short but sweet reprieve from sharing their problems with others.” His voice hinted at a tone of sadness. Leon then asked if the young man would like to go to his house and talk about his troubles. After thinking it over for a while, he agreed and asked Leon to lead the way.

Whilst they walked, Leon talked about his home country and the reason why his mother was in the hospital. Hailing from Europe, he came to this country to seek medical attention for his mother. They reached his house after a while. It was a red ochre brick building, covered in ivy and moss, the same curtains hung from every window and the door was weather beaten and dark green in colour. The part of the house that arrested the guest’s attention immediately was the chimney that was protruding from the top of the roof. Mesmerized, he stood there gawking at the chimney, swaying from side to side as if in a trance. Leon called several times before he answered and followed him in.

Once inside, Leon showed the troubled stranger to the living room and pushed a chair to the fireplace, offering him a seat. He then started a fire in the fireplace as the other sat down and made himself comfortable. “Do you prefer tea of coffee, or perhaps something with a little more kick?” Leon asked the stranger. “Tea please,” answered the young man, raptly staring into the fire as it crackled and flickered. During the time that Leon was in the kitchen preparing the tea, the man sat staring at the fire and smiled gently as he observed how the flickering light made the shadows dance within the room.
Leon came into the room with a tray and set the tea on the table between them. Once he had sat down, he poured his guest and himself a cup. “…before it gets cold,” was all that the man heard as he was snapped out of his reverie that was induced by the fire’s dance. He then took his cup and slowly sipped the tea prepared by his host. Leon let out a small chuckle as the young man finished his newly poured cup of tea. “Now that we’ve settled down, why don’t you start your story?” Leon shifted in his chair as a child does when getting ready to listen to a story from their favorite story book.

The young man then proceeded to tell about the myriad of problems that he had faced recently and the effects that they had had on his self-esteem and well being. Leon listened attentively while sipping his cup of tea. The stranger often looked into the fire as he spoke, as if it was redolent of something. As he spoke he got up and walked around the room, looking at the art hanging on the wall and the pictures that were on the mantelpiece. Looking at the pictures, he came across a photograph of Leon and an elderly woman. “Is this you and your mother?” he questioned. “Yes, that was taken before she became ill.” “She looks very nice, it must be nice to have a mother,” the young man muttered after a short silence. Leon’s interest was piqued by this statement and asked what it meant.

“I lost my mother when I was very young; it was a fire, I was too young to remember anything. The investigations into the cause showed that it was deliberately started. Upon further investigation, they found out that it was started by my father.” Leon offered his condolences and tried to calm the agitated man. Turning around, the young man had a smile on his face. Although it was a smile, the impression that it made was not very comforting. Continuing to look around the room, he came across a large, heavy walking stick with a very decorative head. It was conspicuous amongst the other items in the room and the young man picked it up and asked about it. He brought it to the fireplace so that he could take a better look and so that Leon could tell him more about it.

Just as Leon was going to take it from the young man to show some of its special traits, the latter lifted the stick high above his head and made a violent swing for Leon’s head. The walking stick fell square on Leon’s forehead sending him reeling to the ground. “I’m sorry, you were very kind, but you HAD to start a fire didn’t you?” Leon was half-conscious and had a vague sense of the events that were unfolding. The assailant then started to rummage through the house, saying that the fire was too small. Leon suddenly realized that the young man fitted the recent descriptions of an arsonist that was running rampant within the area.

Desperation set in as the man frantically threw drawers, pieces of furniture and even the walking stick into the fire, saying that the flame wants to be bigger and that it was telling him to do this. He then reached the storage room and cast the doors aside in search for more things to throw into the blaze; he was suddenly overcome with a heavy burden and was hurtled to the floor. He blinked back into consciousness to discover a dull, lifeless gaze staring back at him. Screaming, he quickly pulled himself out from under them; getting up, he noticed deep strangle marks that were embedded into the necks of the cadavers. The neck of one of the bodies was so grotesquely mangled that it did not resemble anything human. Leon grinned as he saw the young man starting to realize whose house he was in.

The stranger started to move in a more ungainly fashion; he staggered around in circles and eventually passed out on the floor not more than five feet from Leon. “That sure took awhile; the drugs usually start working faster than that.” Leon mused to himself as he slowly got up from the floor. Leon then put his previous victims back into the closet and assured them that they would soon have a new friend joining them. He walked over to his collapsed prey and gave him a hard kick in the stomach in exchange for the earlier blow. The young man coughed up some blood and regained some consciousness, staring up at Leon he said “Don’t think that you’ll get away with this,” Leon bellowed out a laugh so hard that it shook the rafters.

Once his fit of laughter subsided, he slowly put his hands on the young man’s throat, gradually applying more and more pressure. Leon cackled maniacally at the expression of pain that was on his newest victim’s blood-spattered face. After making sure that the blood in the unmoving body’s veins was cold and tranquil, the iron grip of his bear like hands relaxed little by little. Leon walked over to his special closet, and cautiously opened the door so that his previous works of art wouldn’t fall out. He then took them out and carefully carried them to his basement. Once there, he switched on the light to reveal numerous cases that were standing in a row against the wall. Caringly handling his art, he put them on display within the glass cases. After putting them into separate dwellings, he took a step back and a look of contentment crept over his perspiring face.
He smiled at the irony of almost being killed by his to-be victim. Once satisfied, Leon closed the doors to his gallery and then started to clean up. After that was done, Leon walked out of his home and continued his day as if nothing had ever happened. These events make up the tale of how he added the most precious piece to his collection.

My name is Leon Sanders and this is my story.
Now I have only one question for you. How is life treating you, my young friend?