The Vision
The warrior gripped the hilt of
his sword with bloody fingers as he staggered up the hillside. Behind him,
bodies lay strewn across the earthen floor, the parched soil eagerly soaking up
the rich, red blood that seeped from their bodies.
He moved slowly, each foot a
leaden weight at the end of legs that trembled with every step. His own life
blood dripped from wounds across his body, weakening him with every beat of his
heart yet he refused to stop, to join his comrades as they lay in their final
resting place.
He raised his eyes towards the
vast tree on the crest of the hill and the golden figure that stood in its
shadow. Was he dying? Yes, probably. Was she an angel come to take him through
to the afterlife? Who knew, although he believed that he was more likely to end
up in hell's fire than heaven's gentle glow. All he knew was that the figure
drew him, urging him on before he succumbed to death's command.
The sword's tip dragged across
the floor as he reached the summit and he paused before the glowing figure. The
darkness gathering at the edges of his vision made the figure too bright to
make out features but he had an impression of gentleness, of warmth and caring
before he stumbled to his knees. He opened his mouth to speak but no words
slipped through his barren lips.
As he succumbed to the darkness,
he had a sensation of warmth reaching out to him, embracing him in its protective
glow. A voice, soft and warm like the setting summer sun, spoke in his ear.
"Welcome, brave warrior."
Nice, Could be a great ending or middle
ReplyDeletePossible prologue ??....
ReplyDeleteThe Warrior woke to the sound of knocking at his tent. Knowing that the battle was near he began preparing.
Grabbing his bracer's and heavy steel claymore. He had not need for chain mail or other armor, all it would do is slow him down.
As he finished pacing his bracers and walked out of his tent hr was greeted by a grunt from his commander and being notified that he would be placed right at the front line today.
As the Warrior lined yo with the rest of the army hr scanned the faces of his comrades, noticing how some look young, barly past 16 and yet some seemed like they should be getting ready for their final rest and a battle.
Peering into the battle field he spots a tree on the edge of the plain on a slight rise, it seems unfair that something so innocent as a tree should have to watch a battle such as the likes of this