This is my first draft of the entire story
He was a murderer.
A regretful act changed his feelings, it all began when he was a young boy, when he was surrounded by lush golden wheat fields, at which his father worked. His house adjoined the field, it was nothing but shameful. The walls were made of wood, exposing the paint that had chipped away and a pungent smell of sweat and sewage engulfed the house. Ewart hated that he had to share this minuscule house with four other families, which alienated the word privacy to him until he witnessed a mansion in the city from the outside that had gleaming windows and majestic exteriors. He dreamt of owning a splendid mansion and eating food that was not stale. One day as he gazed through the window, he noticed the plump and powerful chickens prey on defenceless worms; it made his eyes red, while he clenched his fist. He anticipated for the night and discretely scavenged a kitchen knife, which he hid earlier on. Resembling a wolf he set to prey on these heartless creatures. The knife gleamed reflecting the brilliant moonlight, which ensured he had enough light to locate his victims. The chicken twisted and shook violently in desperation until a swift cut, unleashed streams of bright red blood, which oozed from its neck. One by one, they vanished facing the same fate as the first chicken. Content that he prevented injustice and disregarding the death of the chicken, he slept peacefully.
Unlike the majority of children, who had compassion Ewart emerged into manhood, with an inexhaustible quench for power and wealth, while a prominent group infiltrated British circles. Ewart was in a dimly lit coffeehouse that had a yellowish tint, which emanated from the tungsten bulb, when a colossal man with broad shoulders wearing an unusual black suit entered. It was of Coal Black. A black, that conjured the evilest of spirits. The owner came rushing to serve this man named Henry, but instead of reverence in the owner’s eyes, one could see fear. The owner’s legs and hands shook heedlessly, while streams of perspiration sprang from his face. Thoughts cascaded his mind. Optimism won in the battle of thoughts and seizing this opportunity Ewart approached the cynical man. Before Ewart even asked a question the man responded by saying, “ I know you want to join, but you need to prove yourself to the masters and if you do so, unseen power and wealth will accompany you.” Ewart stood spellbound, theorizing how the man knew his feelings and followed Henry into an intriguing castle.
A large portcullis, made out of brittle rusted iron creaked as it rose slowly and revealed an image that sent blood-curdling tremors to Ewart’s body. It was like nothing he had previously experienced, vast and ancient. Through the dusk, the faint irregular texture of stones could be seen. Ewart was mesmerized and captivated by peculiar symbols. A shrill noise could be heard as the wild wind howled. He anxiously turned desperately searching for an exit out of the lustreless place. The heavy timber of the door groaned as it closed entrenching them in the gloom. Henry lit a torch in an attempt to dissipate the darkness. Henry led the way as they set foot in a chamber occupied by bizarre figures in identical clothing. Glancing at his own pearl white clothing, in contrast to the stygian clothing of the others, he felt estranged from the group. Suddenly a voice boomed “ I have apprehended that you want to take part, but before you do so go forth and prove your loyalty by selecting a task, and if you agree to do so, meet Henry at the same coffeehouse ” Ewart stepped forward carefully selecting a roll of parchment that was precisely wrapped. Delicately he opened the roll, while anticipating what he had to perform to reach the apex of his life. Sense of shock and despair overarched him, it was a brutal assessment, but for his future he willingly agreed.
An unexpected tempest ravaged the village that deserted the coffeehouse except the farthest grim corner remained occupied. A short middle-aged lady perched on an Elizabethan chair. She wore a long peacock blue, bell-shaped skirt with voluminous petticoat, with her shoulders hunched over the warm caffeinated drink touched her voluptuous red lips and proceeded to her throat. A deafening crack of thunder filled the room, as Ewart’s ears rang and the recoil jolted his amature firing hand. One by one the barrel of bullets entered the woman’s body and teared her flesh apart, until they reached her bones. Ewart’s numbness in his ears deafened the women’s agony as her soul left the body, but he did witness the transition from the saturated peacock blue skirt to soaking crimson red. A faint tear emerged from the darkness of his heart through his eyes, while his gun dropped to the ground. Disquietness inundated his core, when he gradually crept to the carcass. Blood stained his quivering hands; with great force he rotated the women’s body and what happened, it tainted his soul forever. The sole reason that caused heinous pageant dreams. Intricately Ewart removed the hat, covering the woman’s face revealing his aunt. He breathed heavily, contemplating the crime he committed. A memory of his aunt cut him deep, the day when his parents died, she was the only one to console and enlisted him into a factory for a reasonable wage. Having felt the arm she placed on his shoulders was now gone, It dug a nail deep into his heart and a void that may never be filled.
Amidst the tempest in his life he entered his home, which was modest, but was substantially improved from his parent’s house. Having sank onto the chair, puffs of smoke arose from his cigar, a way from him to suppress his anguish. It occurred to him the pearls of wisdom, a Christian father told him, that following the bible is a way for mortals to live their life to the fullest. It doesn’t mean to have riches beyond need and in fact these materialistic possessions are meaningless to those who have them. These exact concepts he brushed away, considering them to be for the weak and unworthy were ever so applicable to his life. Picking up the bible that had been covered for dust in his shelf, he caressed it and re-established himself in a religion, which he had left behind. Hoping until his death that god has forgiven him.