Crimson Rain

Deep in the winter months, snow slowly falls down from the skies, freezing everything in time. Slowly, seductively, the cold kills.

One little Carmine sat down on a warm rug by the fireplace, playing happily with her little toys. The snow on this Christmas eve was particularly heavy or storming, one could say. It was dark outside and the bustling streets had calmed down to pedestrians struggling against the snowstorm. The small decorative lights from the brightly decorated skyscrapers dotted the stormy dark sky. And our little Carmine’s father sat on a soft sofa comfortably in warm robes, switching channels on the television. He was trying to find peace in this physical comfort. But in all that comfort he could not escape the angst that something was amiss.
One of Carmine’s toys, a nutcracker made a loud sound. Her father was startled but then the thin winter air of the room was filled with Carmine’s soft chuckle, followed by a burst of loud shrill laughter. She looked at her father, laughing, and showed him the nutcracker soldier whose jaw was broken there was a small plastic ball between the jaws. Her father laughed at this.
The door to their department suddenly opened, and there was a loud bang. This was all too much for the seven-year-old Carmine to process. She turned at once to see a man in a long-wet trench coat slowly turning away from the apartment. She couldn’t see his face because his hat was pulled down, but what she could see was a wrist holding a pistol, and the wrist vaguely had a small dragon tattoo on it.
She turned back around confused, her father’s jaws were wide open, with blood down from them, eyes wide open.

---

“37 bodies in total”, a man in uniform said as he walked up to the commissioner.
“All of them suicide?” Commissioner Osbert asked, while still in a dilemma of what to make out of the situation.
“Hanged to death, sir, all of them.” The inspector said.
“But… how? This must be a homicide. 37 people killing themselves all in one night. This is unheard of. This is insanity!” the Commissioner exclaimed calmly.
“So do I think, sir. I am not foolish enough to think it is mass suicide. But there is no evidence of a murder. Not even a single fingerprint on their bodies except those of nurses and doctors.”
“How?”
“I don’t know, sir. This is the first time such a thing has happened.”
The commissioner went into deep thought. Processing and imagining all the events that could’ve unfolded.
“Any of the staff or the patients missing?” asked the Commissioner.
“None sir, counted them all.”
“Fine, seal the asylum. None of the staff or the patients get out until I say so. Allow the visitors, maybe we’ll find a suspect. Check all the CCTV footage from the previous night. There has to be a clue.”
“Ummm…”, a soft female voice appeared. They had lined up all the staff of the asylum. The CCTVs haven't been working for a week.
“Then why…” The commissioner started calmly, “The fuck are you running a Mental Assylum!?” he screamed. The nurse, startled and horrified, backed sway into the line.
Commissioner Osbert rubbed his eyes, he felt a headache was soon coming to harass his poor brain.
He took a deep sigh to get rid of the overwhelming thoughts racing across his mind. “Ask all of the night duty guards what they were doing, and of any strange behaviours all the other staff saw. Report me back at the office.”
---

Carmine was walking slowly in the heavy rain. Cold gusts of wind blew, she shivered but she smiled. She liked being cold, she would next stop by a pub to warm herself up. But for now, she had to stay focused on her task. Suicides were common on this bridge and it was 2 am in the night. Surely, there should be someone trying to take their lives. She liked to help people. She would like to help someone this night too.
Carmine stopped on the bridge, on a side, to take some rest from her walking. She pulled out a cigarette from her raincoat and lit it with an electric lighter. She inhaled the first puff, took a deep breath, held the smoke in and sighed to release the smoke, which came out more than usual due to the cold rain. She felt the nicotine rush in her. 'What lovely weather, a cigarette just makes it better.' She thought as she smoked.
A car passed by her, slowly coming to a halt about a hundred meters away from her. She took another puff as a thousand thoughts raced across her brain. One of these thoughts was that this was a poor lost soul that needed help. And right the thought was. A man stepped out of the car, getting drenched in the cold rain. He wiped his eyes with the sleeve of his coat. Paused for a minute and looked at the beautiful skyline of Dorch City.
Carmine observed her from a distance. She knew what he was about to do, he knew what he was about to do. But as he stepped on the ledged, he paused. He shivered. He wanted to take the step but something was holding him back. Fear.
Carmine, knew what she had to do. She had to help him. She wanted to help him. Carmine walked up to him slowly in the cold, heavy rain, smoking the cigarette that battled to stay lit; like an angel of death walking towards a dying man in his final moments.
“What stops you?” she asked politely with a sweet voice, standing behind him.
The already distraught man was startled. He looked at the pale beauty standing behind him, long dark hair and light blue eyes is all he could make out of her features.
“Why are you doing this?” she asked sweetly.
“I…” he burst into tears. He looked like a man in his early thirties. “I lost my job. My wife… she’s been cheating on me. My kids hate me…”
She let out an empathetic sigh, “I understand.”
“Don’t try to save m….”
“Oh no, I won’t.” she chuckled.
“Take the step,” she said suddenly grimly.
“Your death will do more good than you being alive,” she said. Your insurance will be able to pay for your children’s school. And your wife will finally understand your worth when you are gone.”
“You… You’re right.” He spoke.
“Existence is pathetic. Take the step, there is peace after that. No more life’s problems, no care about anything… Only peace.” She sang it like a poem.
“I should do it… I… I should…”
“Jump!”, she said sternly. And so, he did.
Ah, another poor soul she saved. Such angels are hard to find. No other angels end misery and suffering. But she was on a mission to end the suffering of poor lost souls.
There was a loud splash, satisfying to her. She smiled and walked on. The car remained there, and the man drowned there… Finally, out of his misery.