Unnamed project - Preview

[Mr.Brightside]

"John, what do you have there?  Where do you go every night?"  The soft voice of concern rose from behind.  John releasing the heaviest sigh he could didn’t bother to turn his head.  He could not be bothered with such a task.  The sky was already turning dark and his path would become dangerous.
 
"Nowhere mother, please, go back to your studies."  His voice deep and menacing, it would startle even the most combat ready soldier.  Beginning his step once more a hand overtook his.  "Why do you have your father’s saber my son?  Your presence is not normal this evening... You..."  Letting go of her son’s hand she took a step back before setting her hand on her saber. "You dirty your father's blade?"
 
Irritation began to flow through him, of all the nights, she chose this one. Time was of the essence. "Do not press this issue, please."  Regret was in John's voice.  It was inevitable now.  Conflict would arise.  "Just leave me b-” before he could finish a blast of force left his mother's body.  It sent John through the air as though he were but a leaf.  Standing over him now her face was stern. "You are no longer my son.  What is left but a revenant? Your eyes bled with the dye of evil, your heart no longer mine.  Tonight you will be cleansed."  Funny John thought.  Cleansed.  A remark he often spoke of when referring to the order in which she belonged. Ironic actually. 
 
With an exasperated yelp the aging Jedi flung from her post at John's feet, lightning encasing her body.  "You dare underestimate your own son? You're a old wretch, your skills faded, and your blade weak."  As his words slid from his tongue, the grip of his force choke slid around his mother's neck, slowly gripping tighter and tighter as it lifted her.  Struggling for her breath, it could be said the tides were turned.  The one who raised a monster became its prey.  A fitting end to a worthless creator, and with that end, would come his salvation.
“Master, what is going on?”  A young boy emerged from his slumber.  Rubbing his eyes, on his belt was the hilt of a warrior’s weapon.  Unfit for such a child. 

“And now it’s a party.”