Stained Road [open]

[RICHARD MAXWELL]

When the devil is too busy...
And death's a bit too much...

B

right midday sun was gently warming the vast plains and small villages of Gecko Islands. The weather had been excellent for the past few days and today was no different. Faint breeze carried the scents of grass and various flowers. Green in different shades was the dominant color without a doubt. Aside from occasionally singing birds, the nature remained pleasantly quiet. Villagers could truly enjoy their daily life with a smile. However, even such a calm and beautiful place couldn’t stay peaceful forever. On a small road snaking across an open forest, near a place called Syrup Village, an unusual and very unsettling sight waited for passing travelers.

It could be seen from good distance away as a flat, dark shape in the middle of the road. Getting closer slowly revealed a human figure dressed in brown, sprawled on the dirt. Few more steps and the full horror became apparent. A lifeless, lanky man in his late thirties was lying face down in big, a red puddle. Aside from the dirt and red stains, he appeared to be quite refined with a nice suit, neatly-combed, gray hair and even a wide-brimmed hat, which was on the ground at the moment. His left hand was curled under him, possibly clutching his gut, while the right hand was reaching towards a big, black suitcase nearby.

Despite the dreadful sight, the man was still alive, very much so. As a matter of fact, he wasn’t injured in the slightest. The red puddle and stains were just strategically splattered tomato juice. He was in a position where he could easily get up and the hand under his gut was actually holding onto a small, black pistol. Anyone who approached him would quickly find said gun pointed at them, regardless of their intentions. All in all, it was an elaborate trap. Now, only one question remained. What kind of person would do this to exploit the sympathy of innocent villagers and kind-hearted travelers? Well… Richard Maxwell would.

It had been a good hour since the underhanded criminal had prepared his trap and his neck was starting to cramp. Still, he had no intention of moving. Richard was a cunning and patient man, especially when it came carrying out plans, regardless of who came up with them. If he had to, he would remain motionless until the sunset. Such was the power of his greed-powered self-control. Luckily, his patience was finally rewarded as he heard approaching footsteps. When they were close enough, he let out a weak, supposedly half-conscious groan- "Help… me…" -and even added a pitiful, little cough at the end for some extra realism.

Now, it was time to see if the potential victim would take the bait.

Notes: The trap is set. Feel free to fall for it, ruin it or do something else.
Words: 454 Tagged: Open

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