On Guilt

Warning: the following content contains graphic depictions of violence and murder.

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By: Cavis Chan

A full disc of silver hung above Scotland, its people slept peacefully amidst the silence. Near the castle of King Duncan however, came the sound of hoofbeats growing louder, belonging to two horses carrying two hooded figures. They arrived at the foot of Duncan’s castle and began scaling its walls to Duncan’s room. Soon they both made it into the room, where Duncan was fast asleep.

Jude saw the dagger in Cain’s hand. “I thought we weren’t killing.” whispered Jude.

“Just a precaution.” reassured Cain as he searched the room. He found a bag filled with silver resting on a desk, pocketed it, and continued searching. Jude stood still, paralyzed by a sense of unease. He stared at Duncan as he slept, a corpse in a coffin. After all, is sleep not just death being shy? He gazed out the window and saw clouds drifting ghost-like in the darkness. Suddenly he felt a tickle in his throat…

Duncan awoke that fateful night to the sound of a cough, he looked towards the foot of his bed and saw two figures in the darkness. “Who are you? What are you doing?” he asked. He climbed out of his bed and cautiously walked towards them...he stopped abruptly. He saw Cain’s dagger, glistening under the silver moonlight.

Duncan cried: “GUARDS! HEL-” Cain leaped out of the shadows in a flash and unseamed Duncan’s throat. Then came forth an eruption of blood, drenching Cain in scarlet. The sound of footsteps echoed beyond the door. “We must leave now Jude!” cried Cain, but Jude didn't -- couldn’t -- hear him. He was overwhelmed with vertigo, the ringing in his ears barely covered the sound of Duncan’s gargling as he gasped for air, everything had escalated so quickly. The footsteps grew louder. Cain, realizing the consequences that await his capture, dropped the bloody dagger and climbed onto the window sill. He glanced one last time at his brother and disappeared phantom-like into the dead of the night. The door burst open and Duncan’s guards rushed in.

Once on the ground, Cain mounted his horse and rode home. He turned back and saw Jude’s horse, standing still under the faint moonlight, alone in the chilly night. Tears streamed down Cain’s face. He took the purse of silver out of his pocket and counted thirty pieces.

The next night, a trial was held for the regicide of King Duncan. Cain saw Jude at the front of the court, his face pale as a ghost. The sting of betrayal burned in Jude’s eyes, dagger-like they plunged deep into his own, Cain quickly turned away. After the folks were given an account of the events, soft murmurs ran through the crowd, many broke into tears. One cried: “What are we debating for, the treacherous devil murdered our beloved king in cold blood, is his punishment not certain?” It started as a whisper, and grew louder as others joined, finally coalescing into a chant: “BURN! BURN! BURN!”

The chant continued as they tied Jude bear-like to a stake, folks piled brooms beneath Jude’s feet, some sacrificed their prized furniture. One came forth with a torch and having observed the reassuring nods of the crowd, lit the assortment of timber-work that lay below Jude. The pile instantly exploded and engulfed Jude in flames. First, there was silence, tension filled the air as folks watched in awe. Suddenly, it was replete with Jude’s piercing screams, they filled Cain with terror, chills ached his bones as he watched in horror. Jude’s skin slowly incinerated, revealing the crimson flesh beneath. His eyes melted until they hung from his empty and black sockets, drooping lower until they disappeared in the flames. The muscles and tendons that held his lower jaw melted away until it hung down almost to his chest. The strong wretched scent of burning flesh hung in the air. His screams became coarser until they were ghostly moans, and finally, all that remained was the crackling of the fire. Cain retreated from the crowd and disappeared into the night.

Cain entombed himself in his home for a month after the incident, he spent most of his waking hours tormented by memories that lunged at him like wolves, their fangs sinking deep in his mind. In his sleep, he could see Jude’s charred face, a phantom, haunting him in dream. Everyday became a curse, the pain, the guilt simply unbearable. He tried pushing these images -- these terrifying memories -- away, but they were simply too intense. He was tired, he was exhausted, and at some point he decided he didn’t want to keep going anymore, he wanted to stop, he wanted it all to stop. He searched and found a rope, as tears cascaded down his face, he fashioned it into a noose with his trembling hands. He fled for the door, and rushed into the chilly night…

His body swayed gently in the macabre night, suspended from the branch of a barren tree. A soft breeze passed by, gently tousling his hair. In his final moments, Cain saw the desolate scenery before him blur into darkness. The croak of the crows, the whistling of the wind, converged to a point, before simply vanishing into a perfect silence. His painful memories flashed before him one final time, before melting away into a stream, gently flowing to a place amongst the stars, a place beyond pain and suffering, a place beyond death, beyond time.