“Sam get up!” Echoed Lina Kronski’s voice throughout the Kronski manor,
Sam
was a ten-year-old boy who lived in Switzerland. He was an only child.
His father, Carlito Kronski, was the leader of the biggest mafia in
Europe. They were so rich because of his organised crime. Because they
were so rich, Lina and Carlito saw it fit to home school Sam. They
didn’t like the schools.
Sam quickly jumped out of his four-poster
bed and ran down stairs for breakfast. His mother and father were
sitting at the table. He sat down and they all begun eating.
“Son, your mother and I have decided it’s time for you to see the family business. So tonight I will take you out.”
“Cool,” replied Sam, very enthusiastically, he had waited a very long time for this moment.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Later that night Carlito called Sam down from his room. They went outside and hopped into his Bentley.
The
Kronski’s Bentley pulled into a dark and smokey alleyway. It was the
back of an Italian restaurant. Two men were out the back arguing. One
was a shady character, tall and wearing a black suit. The other
obvisioulsy the restaurant owner was fat and was wearing a chef’s
outfit, with spaghetti sauce all over him.
“Stay in the car son, I’ll handle this,” said Mr Kronski.
Sam didn’t dare disagree. After all, his father was the biggest mafia in all of Europe.
The
huge 7-foot man hauled himself out of the car and walked over to the
two arguing men. When they saw him they both stopped talking
immediately.
“Sir….” began the man in the suit. But Mr Kronski cut him off with a wave of his hand.
“Your weekly payment?” He held out his hand.
The Italian man swore in Italian.
“Sorry sir, business has been bad this week.”
“I’m
sorry, but in my business I do not tolerate this.” He reached into his
jacket for his gun but before he could do so the back door swung open.
Standing in the door way were three men, all holding machine guns,
pointing them at Mr Kronski.
“What’s this?” he asked, not even a hint of fear in his voice.
“Time
for a change of pace,” replied the Italian man. And then the men pulled
their triggers. Pumping enough lead into Mr Kronski to bring down a
large elephant. He fell to the ground, dead.
Sam held back his tears. He didn’t want those men finding him.
He
ducked down, and kept out of sight for a good five minutes. When he was
sure the area was clear he risked peeping out of the car. It was clear,
no one in sight. He opened the Bentley door and ran down the alley,
without looking back, as fast as he could.
After a few minutes of
running through the cold moist air, he arrived back at his house. He
quickly ran up the steps and threw open the ochre doors. “Mum,” he
yelled, tears streaming down his face. No reply. He ran into the living
room. It was very dark in here. He walked to the corner of the room and
switched on the light. What he saw would scar him for life. He quickly
flicked the switch again and caught his breath. After sniffling and
wiping his tears he turned it back on. As soon as he looked at the
floor he burst into tears. “Mummy,” he cried, running down to the dead
body in the middle of the floor.
He stood up and looked around. His
knees stained with blood. In front of him was the limp body of his
mother, surrounded by a thick pool of blood. Beside her was a knife and
something Sam missed before.
He picked up the piece of paper and unfolded it. In bold writing it read, don’t mess with us, or you will pay.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sam
was sitting in his club, the moon light, with a few of his co-workers,
or Mafioso’s. He was enjoying a bottle of vodka, reminiscing his
childhood. Every since his mother and father had died, he had set out
to find their killers. He took over his fathers business and convinced
the men to help him.
For the last week he had been sitting in his
office, researching the crime lords of that time. He was a wreck. He
was in desperate need of a shower and needed to shave. But that didn’t
matter to him; he only cared about avenging his parents.
“Hey buddy, want a cigar,” said one of Sam’s friends, Thomas.
“Yeah
sure,” he said taking it and lighting the tip. He drew back the smoke
and blew it out, making the VIP booth cloudy and stink like cigars.
And
then, it hit him. Sam jumped out of the chair, the cigar falling out of
his mouth. He grabbed his jacket and ran down the stairs, out of the
club. Ignoring his friends pleads to stay. He jumped into his
Lamborghini and drove to his west side apartment. The west and north
side of Berne belonged to Sam and his crew, the Yakuaza. When he
arrived he quickly jumped out of the car, threw the keys to the valet
and ran upstairs to his apartment. He unlocked the door and ran into
his office. He switched on the laptop and typed in a name. His reply
was, date of death, June 12th 1997. That was 11 years ago! There goes
his last lead. He stood up and threw his chair into the wall. He was so
frustrated. He punched the wall, leaving a hole the size of a
watermelon. He turned to the laptop and snapped it in two.
“Screw
this,” he yelled, sitting in the corner, with his head in his arms. A
bright light flashed, causing him to look up from his sulking. A man in
a black cloak was hovering before him, shining brightly.
“Stand up,” his voice thundered. Before Sam’s body could react he was pulled up. “Why are you angry?”
“Who are you?” he asked.
“I am the angel of death; I believe you are trying to find your parents’ killers?”
“Yes, I am,” he replied.
“I can help you, for a small price.”
“What is it you want?” asked Sam, this should be easy; he was one of the world’s richest men.
“Your soul,” Sam was shocked but calm at the same time. He didn’t believe in any of this. But it was for his parent’s honour.
“Okay,
take it,” he said, tensing. The hovering angel thrust his hand into
Sam’s chest. Sam screamed, the pain was excruciating, the angel was
smiling, by the looks of this he liked pain.
After a few seconds
he pulled out his hand. It was covered in a soft, clear fluff like
substance. Sam went cross eyed, and fainted.
Sam woke up, sunlight
on his face. He was lying in a completely ruined office, it looked like
a bomb had hit here. He didn’t remember anything of the previous night,
but he knew one thing. The location of parent’s killer, it was right
here in the city, on the east side. Triads! He though.
They were a
dangerous gang, but he didn’t care. Rage flooded his mind. He ran over
to his gun cabinet and grabbed out two SMG’s and a sawn off shot gun.
He ran out to the back of his apartment and jumped in his Ferrari enzo.
He started the 1000 horse-power engine and pulled out of the drive way
and onto the road. Doing 150 km an hour he was at his destination in no
time.
He slammed the door and ran up to the house. Not thinking of
anything but revenge he kicked down the doors. Music was playing out
the back so he ran out their. Sitting by the pool was a man and his
wife, bingo. He shot the door and laughed as the couple fell off their
chairs in shock. The women screamed and the man jumped up and spread
his arms, to protect his wife.
“Do you remember me?” shouted Sam over the music.
“No, I don’t,” said the man, shaking.
“You
killed my parents,” he screamed. He shot the man in the leg; he fell to
the ground, clutching his leg, screaming out in pain. Sam ran up and
kicked him in the face. He fell down and scrambled away from him. Sam
took out the shot gun from his jacket and put it to the women’s head.
The women didn’t do anything, she was frozen with shock. Her husband
yelled, trying to move. Sam smiled and pulled the trigger. The shell
hit her skull and exploded on impact. Hundreds of tiny lead balls flew
into her skull. She fell down, a massive chunk of her skull missing.
Her head cracked open on the side of the pool. Her blood trickled into
the blue water. Sam turned to the man. He tried to scramble away but
couldn’t, his leg was too painful. Sam threw down the gun and took out
the two SMG’s. He aimed them at the man scrawled on the ground.
“For my parents,” he said pulling the trigger. The man lay there, limp and in a pool of blood.
Sam threw his guns, and walked toward the door. The angel of death popped up in front of him.
“Time
to pay your debt,” he thundered, plunging his hand into Sam’s chest and
pulling out his heart. The angel disappeared and Sam fell to the
ground, dead.


Comments please.