Haunted Roads

At first Mikkos was unresponsive, if anything only intrigued by the delivery, the return of a ring so long ago given. He dropped it in his pocket and as the day progressed, pulled it out occasionally to glance at it, thinking of it’s value, remembering how it complimented Justine’s beauty. Remembering how her eyes sparkled the night he gave it to her, the night he asked her to marry him.

Hours later his cool had begun to slip. For a while he sat brooding, staring at the ring as though it held the answer to his mood, or as though the ring itself was the reason for all of the anger inside him.

The ring was nothing more than a bauble, a trinket… a symbol. It was all that it symbolized that now ate at him. His anger, his regret, his frustration.

The brooding ate at him, bubbling over like a slow rise of lava until in a heated rage he began to act out all those emotions on the empty room around him. When he was done much of what held value in the room had been broken and Mikkos was heading out.

A few of his enemies, his father’s enemies, the enemies of his family, would feel his wrath, and before the end of the night would be dead by his hand.

But Mikkos would feel no better.