Tuesday, November 13, 2012

A Warrior awakes on the battlefield

He awakes in the cold of night, seeing nothing. The sounds of metal clanging violently rage around him, drawing him to action. He picks up his scythe, his workman's tool, intending to escape, but a man bars the way. As he defends himself from the blows of the enraged, he succumbs to his inhibitions. The wide man, 6 feet tall, and as pale as moonlight prepares himself, and strikes. The strike angers him in some way, and saddens him.
 
              His core awakens. He madly swings his Scythe, biting into the necks of hundreds, and breathes cool emerald flames down the backs of his enemies, a monster born from the labor of a many souls.  The insanity rises in him. He turns and twists and bends. The Fear and Anger rises, threatening to break him apart. A giant serpent, killing all the soldiers on the battlefield. A miraculous and demonic event the culls the flesh in their stomachs to the days of their grandchildren.

                He sleeps. Tired of the madness, the true soul sleeps. Quiet reigns over this new field. For once, a bright star shines overhead. Come morning, the only thing left is a bloodstain.

"Once you wake from a slumber, The only thing that remains is the desire to sleep."

  ISA

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