Monday, January 4, 2016

an old swordsman awakens

Morning came with its typical insistence. Begrudgingly, the old warrior awoke and remembered twelve score of pains both new and long held. He stretched blindly against the forceful sun and spat out his distaste for night’s miasmas.

Sharp pain twisted in his guts and sent him curling into the dewy earth. What had he done?

Vomit and blood surrounded him, sharp stink and charnel cling. Who were these dead men about him? How came his ribs to be broken again?

Where was he? Why was he here?

Who was he?          

Firm but gentle hands took him by the forearms and sat him delicately on his numb feet. The sunshine grew more insistent.

“It is time?” he asked.

“…” she or perhaps a small boy said something he could not understand.

The sunlight stretched to encompass his very being, all horizons.

Until, of course, a black dot took its center. Empty black began to spread.

“I love you,” whispered the voice.

The old warrior smiled and fell into nothing.

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