The dark shadow of the historic Abbey rose in the distance as he slowly began to make his way home. The echo of his heavy footsteps reverberated off the ancient cobbled streets and clashed against the silence of the night. Raindrops fell from thick clouds above him, the pitch black darkness of the night only being broken by the fleeting strobes of light presented into his path from the moon above. He looked up towards the sky and sighed as a sense of frustration washed over him. If only he'd followed his earlier intuition and worn a coat.
He'd barely walked a hundred metres before the rain had started to penetrate and soak through his clothing. The denim jeans he was wearing had already begun to stick to his legs. Water ran down his face. He sighed again as he wiped the rain away.
In front of him he could see the rugged outline of the palace ruins that had housed Royals and played host to the most important people of times gone by. Suddenly the tiny hairs on the back of his neck stood to attention and a wave of shock rushed through his entire body. He had heard something behind him. Footsteps maybe. His body tightened up as he contemplated his move. Fight or flight mode initiated. He hesitated and swallowed the saliva in his mouth that was drying and making him feel more and more dehydrated by the second. What should he do? He heard the noise again. Was it voices this time? He couldn't quite be sure. He had to find out even if it was just to settle his own nerves. Panic was at fever point.
He stopped still for a second, then quickly span around on the spot. There was nothing there. The path behind him was completely empty. There wasn't another soul in sight. He cursed at himself for allowing the paranoia to creep through him so easily. He obviously hadn't heard a noise. His mind was playing tricks. Maybe it was the seven whisky's he'd just consumed in the Creepy Wee Pub? Or maybe he was tired and his mind was working in overdrive? Or a combination of both?
He turned back around in the direction of home and started to walk down the path which led through the old doorway of the ruined palace. Suddenly he heard the sound of metal hitting something hard, and he instantly felt a sharp pain in the back of his head. He began to feel faint and could feel himself falling. He stumbled around on his feet trying to regain himself but with every passing second it became harder and harder. He heard the same noise and felt the exact same pain again. He was being attacked. He fell flat on his face and was unable to move. He tried to shout for help but the words wouldn't form in his mouth. He could taste the metallic taste of blood. Everything was becoming darker and he could feel the light in his eyes extinguishing as every second passed. Suddenly everything was completely black and it was becoming too difficult to breathe. He gasped for air but there was none to be found. His body was shutting down. He was dying.
He felt something trickling its way down the back of his head as he lay on the floor, unconsciousness taking over his whole body and eventually helping him to find a euphoric comfort in death. The sound of metal being thrown to the floor and footsteps fading into the distance the last sounds he would ever hear. Then the sound of silence. Both in himself and in the dead of the night.
He lay in the doorway of the old ruined palace. A river of crimson flowed beside him and streamed away to join the puddles formed by the rain. Not a sound was to be heard, apart from the shreiks of a nearby crow nesting in the Abbey that had been startled by the commotion.
Murder had arrived on the quiet, historic streets of Dunfermline.

© Ashley (urb4npo3t) 2020