The Chain Weaver

A weird and twisted peice, that my English teacher loved, and gave it an A. :D.
Anyways, the Chain Weaver is based on a videogame character called The Merchant from Resident Evil 4
If you're not sure, then google it :D


The Chain Weaver

The moon shone gleefully on the small town on the western border of the English empire. It was very rare that the large sphere was accompanied by the smaller of its kind, the stars. They too reflected the warm glow of the sun and filled the night air with a gloomy atmosphere. Down in the low lived scum ridden hovels, the stars were never looked at. People stayed locked in their hovels seeking the warmth and protection from the mud and straw walls, away from dangerous thugs that lingered in the depths of the nights eerie silk ridden darkness.
However, one man was taking a risk, a risk that he now wished he shouldn’t have taken. In a small gap in-between two grueling slums, a person in a long black coat, with a hood up and purple cloth hanging loosely over his face only to reveal his eyes, sat on a large log stool. The man ran passed only to jump at the person’s sudden action. In a deep, unsatisfying voice he muttered the words “I am the chain weaver, and I am pleased to meet your acquaintance.” The man stopped only to see his very impressive collection of weapons and armour that lay on a desk behind him.
“Who the hell are you?” the fear struck man said with utmost confidence.
“Why don’t you take a better look at my collection of goods?” The hooded person raised his head to reveal dark eyes with a speck of white as their only brightness.
“Wha…” the man had suddenly felt a sudden pain in his stomach. He peered down, squinting in pain. There in his stomach, a knife had seemed to rip its way through his skin and penetrate his organs. He looked back at the chain weaver and there he was. Two knives in one hand, rested firmly on his knees, the other outstretched in a throwing position. A splash of sanguine liquid suddenly squirted onto the floor, accompanied by a harsh and definitely disturbing hiss. The man wretched and blood poured from his open mouth. The chain weaver returned to his usual position, head hung and hands together in lap. Although the blood-splashed purple bandanna hid his expressions, the chain weaver gently smiled in comfort. He returned the knives to his desk.
The minutes passed and the chain weaver had not moved. Not until he heard a familiar phrase. “I am pleased to meet your acquaintance.” The persons’ eyes widened in discomfort, scanning the front of his brain. The chain weaver stood and turned only to find a duplicate of himself in clothing sense.
“Who…” The chain weavers’ neck snapped and his head fell limply to the ground, leaving his hood behind. His body fell numb and fell to its knees before the grimness of his life left him. The duplicate hid the bodies and sat on the large mossy log. A mother unaccompanied by her children playing far ahead in the street hurried down the dark and treacherous lane. She stopped only to hear a clearer voice than expected.

“I am the chain weaver,” The woman hung her head to one side, “and I am pleased to meet your acquaintance” the person held his head up to reveal his dark eyes, this time without the white speck of hope.