Previous Challenge Entry (Level 3 - Advanced)
Topic: Sport or Fitness (02/15/07)
TITLE: Blood Sport
By Sue Dent
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He couldn’t believe it. The punishment was far too extreme, in his opinion. He’d be dead himself in a matter of time if things were left as they were. Everyone would be looking for him. Everyone would be out to kill him. The blood sport would be on.
Oh, the irony, he thought. No one had actually ever taken the initiative to strike another down. No one had actually killed anyone. But now he was a marked man. He tried to reason with his punisher, even begged.
“You must see how unfair this is? You have to know everyone will be out to get me? You didn’t like what I did yet now that the deed has been done, you’ve sort of left the door open for it to happen again. No one will want me around after this. They’ll all want to kill me!”
Would it work? He had no idea. Was he his brother’s keeper? Of course he was. Yet he’d let his jealousy over his brother being favored eat at him and eat at him—it ate at him until the idea to do away with him overwhelmed. It seemed like a good idea at the time. How would anyone know?
He hadn’t counted on his brother’s blood calling out from the ground. How could he? No one had ever been killed before. Oh but was he to be pitied now! He would have to walk the earth as a vagabond, driven from this place he’d called home. His father’s punishment was one thing. But this—how would he ever survive as a farmer when the earth would no longer yield anything to him?
Speaking to the One punishing for perhaps the very last time, he still couldn’t think of anyone but himself. Even with his the blood of his brother crying from the ground, he continued to think only of himself and not about what drove him to kill.
And he’d been such a disappointment to his family. They’d thought that he might be the Savior. The one sent to correct his father’s sin. And now look what he’d become and all because of his jealousy. His brother’s offering was considered better than his.
He said it again. “You’ve made hunting me a blood sport. How shall I ever survive?”
The response was a protective mark to identify him as the one who had killed, a promise that vengeance should be taken sevenfold on anyone who tried to do the same to him.
Never asking for forgiveness, never really considering what he’d done except for the extent of his punishment, Cain left.
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