You see a man walking in front of you, he turns to look back and as you see his face you realise that the man had not shaved or washed in a long time. The back of his trousers were a camouflage style green towards the bottom and slowly returned to their original faded black colour at the thigh region. The grass stains and mud were a great compliment to his blood stained shirt and dirt speckled face. His boots were barely on his feet, the laces flying in all directions, one of the boots was missing a tongue and the other had a large chunk missing from the toe region. Perched over his shoulder was a large hard leather case which you could only assume contained a guitar.

Your head had drifted to your feet as you began to feel sorry for this poor man, his emaciated body was a sure sign he was malnourished and his clothes were another sure sign that he was not as financially fortunate as you. In your thoughts you had began to walk a bit quicker and were only a few feet away from the man now, you could see his path of walking change, you slow down slightly so you can see where the man is heading for, you watch as he places the case on the ground and pulls out a small black hat placing it too on the ground in front of him. Reaching down towards the case he began to undo the small silver clips keeping it closed. the case opened facing away from you, your mind wandered past the black leather and wondered what was in the case, the man reached into the case placing his dirt covered fingernails onto the object he slowly unveiled the instrument.

In the man’s hands lay the most beautiful thing you had seen all day, the shiny surface had not a single scratch on it, the strings were curled in a perfect spring at each of the tuning heads, and the grain of the wood was almost mystical, the man reached into the box and took out a small yellow cloth before starting to polish the guitar he was holding. His eyes wandered all over the object and as he slowly polished the already sparkling wood. The man’s eyes closed and his hands stopped moving, he leaned in close and seemed to be caressing the instrument, it was clear that this guitar meant more to him than anything else in the world. 

He threw the little cloth back into the case, his fingers crawled towards the frets and roamed over the strings, his other hand rested over the scratch panel and he mimicked some chords without making any noise, you slowly drifted back to feeling sorry for the man, this man had one thing to live for and one thing he loved, nothing else in the world mattered to him, not even himself. Slowly you begin to hear the man play, he was not singing but the music spoke for its self, you had never heard this song before, perhaps he had written it himself, all you were sure of is that he was playing from his heart, each twang of a string sent a shiver down your spine, every micro second of silence been the notes warming your heart. The music made you think of the life this man must have, having nowhere to sleep, nothing to eat, nobody to love. Your eyes drift to the public walking by, not a single person takes any notice of the man. His talent drifting away in the wind unappreciated, except for you, you admire this man, not for his power, wealth or handsomeness but solely for the fact that he is alive, you think to yourself that if your life was as bad as his you wouldn’t want a life.

In the distance you could see two figures walking along the street one whispering into the others ear, both looking over towards the emaciated man who still sat playing his guitar. As they got closer you could see one man reach into his trouser pocket, you think that he is going to give the man some money, you begin to think about how much of a difference you could make to the man’s life with just a fraction of the money you own. The two men had turned and were standing with their backs towards both you and the guitar player, the same man with the change in his hand now reached into his pocket for what you think is his wallet, you watch in confusion as it appears the man is putting the change into his wallet, you realise now that the man is not going to give any money to the guitarist, it is then that you decide you will help him, you look into the far distance and can see a bank, the plan is to walk to the bank and withdraw a sum of cash to give to the man, you begin to walk and give the two men a small glance on the way past, disappointed that they too do not appreciate the guitarists talent. 

Suddenly you hear a loud bang.

The music has stopped, you slowly turn around and can see people running towards you from all directions, your eyes try to look past the stampede of people and can see the dark figure stood with his arm extended and a smoking firearm in his hand, you follow the line of sight from the gun and can see the man hunched over, his arms still grasping the blood covered instrument. The realisation hits you like a train, your hands fall to your sides and your body to your knees. You bow your head in respect as tears begin to fill your eyes.

Anoxia was sat outside the café reminissing. As he lifted his drink he heard a guitar being played behind him, Anoxia closed his eyes and remembered how he used to love listening to his father play the guitar for him as a child. Even though Anoxia didn’t recognise the song, the crisp clean notes had an uplifting feeling as he tapped his foot to the rhythm.

Hearing a loud gunshot from over his shoulder Anoxia’s eyes flew open as he instantly drew his weapon. His reactions were instant as his father had taught him well. With his weapon pointing directly towards two men Anoxia sees a man slumped on the ground, a homeless man. Anoxia watches for a second before thinking to himself “that’s another bum off these streets”. Placing his weapon back in its holster he returns to his drink. Picking up the ice cold cola he realises the music had stopped. Glancing back behind him at the man slumped on the ground he sees the lifeless body clutching a guitar, the gunmen had turned around and were walking away slowly, they knew no-one would care for this bum.

Bowing his head, Anoxia has a flash back from his father’s death. His father was gunned down while he was sitting on the porch playing his guitar. He could see his father’s face, his warm smile and the glistening redwood guitar he never put down.

At that moment, something changed.

Anoxia realised he had never had revenge for his father’s death. He could feel the rage building up inside himself. He could feel his hand reaching for his weapon, he couldn’t stop himself. Why was he feeling this now? Why was he doing this? Why was he standing up? Why was he running after the gunmen? Anoxia couldn’t not answer these questions, all he knew is seeing an innocent man being shot down was not something he could let go. Feeling the blood coursing through his veins Anoxia took aim.

Bang, Bang, Two shots entered the backs of the men walking away.

Anoxia just stood there, pointing his gun at the bodies lying on the floor. What had he done? Why had he just killed these two people? He had no orders off the boss for these hits. Anoxia felt this strange feeling, a sharp pain in his heart. He was experiencing guilt for the first time. He had just killed two people who didn’t deserve to die, yes they killed an innocent man, but now Anoxia was no better than them. Anoxia had just killed a gunman, and his innocent friend.

With his heartbeat rising and his breathing heavier Anoxia could feel everyone staring at him. He didn’t know what to do. He pointed his gun at a man who was staring at him.

“I had to do it, you know I did” Anoxia shouted at the scared man

“I had too, they deserved it, didn’t they?”