Ramose

Ramose was a normal boy, born into a good home. His father and mother loved him greatly. They were a happy family.  They had a small farm, on the fringes of a small town, but what money his father couldn't provide on their homestead, he provided by serving in the military. Life was good, but the hand of fate is ever searching, in war.
    Eventually, death found him. The absence of his father left Ramose and his mother alone in the world, but somehow, one woman and a six year old boy, managed to keep the farm going, enough to provide for themselves.  But their sorrow would only worsen. 
    Rumor spread that the father had died in war and left a widow and a boy. Innocent enough rumor. The townspeople whispered about it. They said that they should all collect some money to help. But the whispers reached ears that were not so innocent. A passing traveler heard about the lonely young widow and decided to pay her a visit.
    Ramose and his mother were both inside their home that day, cooking their midday meal, when they heard a forceful knock at the door. A loud drunken voice accompanied it. "HELLO! Are you in there sweetie?" The knock had startled Ramose's mother and she snatched up a kitchen knife before she answered. "Who is it?" She hurriedly grabbed Ramose by the hand and sat him on the floor in the corner. "Why it's just old Bill, come to make a house call." 

She covered him in blankets and laundry as she answered, "I'm sorry we don't have any food for you. Try at the next farmhouse down the road." She turned to Ramose and whispered urgently, "Don't move, and stay quiet darling."

    A loud laugh came from the side of the house, and an ugly head shoved itself through the open window. Bill sniffed loudly and smiled. "Of course you have food, I can smell it." Ramose's mother hid the knife behind her back. She spoke in a quavering voice. "Please leave. My husband will be home any minute." 

Bill laughed again and staggered through the window. As he was getting his footing, she ran at him with the knife held high and slashed with all the force she could summon and more. As he turned toward her, the knife cut him, from the top right side of his forehead, all the way to his left nipple. He let out a cry of rage and back-handed her across the jaw. Then he grabbed the knife from her, and stabbed her in the stomach.

    Ramose tried to do as he was told. He tried to be quiet, and he tried to stay put, but with seeing his mother hurt, he could not just hide and peek out through the dirty rags. Rage and hate boiled up from inside him, and all he wanted was to kill the man that had hurt his mother. He burst out of the corner, and charged straight for the brute. But the world ignited in pain, as Bill met him with a fist. 
    When his senses returned, Ramose couldn't move. Bill was standing over him, muttering to himself, as he finished tying Ramose to a support pole. "Stupid bitch! Cut the hell out of me. All I wanted was a little fun. That's alright; I'll have my fun anyway." His eyes snapped up to look at Ramose. "Oh good your awake. I wanted you to watch." He stepped back and Ramose could see his mother, lying on her back, in a pool of her own blood. She was looking up at him, with horrible pain in her eyes, trying to reach for him with her waning strength. 
    Then Bill walked around her, flipped up her dress, and ripped open her under garments. As he had his way with her, all Ramose could hear was his own wailing, and all he saw was her eyes. He stared into her deep brown eyes, as her blood ran out like the last few grains of sand in her hourglass, and then she was dead. 
    Something broke inside Ramose then. Maybe it was the shattering of his childhood, or his heart: who knows? But at that moment, the ancient magical power, within him, was released. Ramose had been told that his father could perform magic, but he never demonstrated it. His father only said that, the only place for his type of magic was on a battle field. But now the battlefield was in his home, and Ramose had stopped crying.
    Rage flooded through him, a wave of emotion that scorched all feeling into cinders. Ramose wanted only that Bill's eyes to fade, the way his mother's had. He looked down at his arms. Smoke rose from where the ropes touched his skin. They fell away and he lifted his hand. He stared Bill in the eyes, and saw only fear. Guided by instinct, he launched a bolt of lightning straight through his heart. And then all he knew was darkness. 
    When he woke, he was being carried by some villagers. They took him into town, and eventually he was given to an orphanage, but he was not the same after the death of his mother. He was unruly and could not be controlled. His magical abilities frequently surfaced, and eventually he just ran away. Haunted by the memory of his mother's dying eyes, he just kept running.