This Is Not How It Was Supposed To End

We can choose our actions, but we can never choose the consequences of those actions.

          “This is not how it was supposed to end!” he shouted to the thundering sky.

          She lay there in his arms, rain pouring down on her motionless body. Her skin had already turned a ghostly pale white and become frozen to the touch. Although life no longer ran through her, blood still seeped out from the three stab wounds in her chest. The grass beneath them turned a crimson color as he held her close to his body.

          He had made this decision. He had chosen to track down those men in a fit of rage. It was his choice to not wait for the men to return to the village from their hunt. Maybe it was his pride; perhaps it was the sensation of guilt. Whatever it was, it had driven him to those men and their murderous ways. And now his own cousin lay dead in his arms.

          The young man had never seen such magnificent swordsmanship than that of his cousin. She had always taken care of him as though they were brother and sister. That was why she had followed him that night. That was why she could not allow him to do that on his own. She wanted to make sure he would be okay; to make sure he would be safe. Those men were not like any others. They were born to end men’s lives. That was their purpose, their entire being. He knew this, and yet he still went out after them.

         His own swordsmanship was far beyond that of what it should be for a man of his young age, but it was not enough. He fought valiantly and failed. He felt death creep upon him as one of the men placed his sword on the back of his neck. Death was right there, standing over him, breathing down his neck. And then he heard her voice in the darkness. The battle waged on as he lay on grass, beaten and scarred. Two of the men fell at her hands. But like her cousin, it was not enough. She did not even scream as the blade entered her body for the first time. She came to strike again and the blade entered her a second time. She came again and the blade entered her a third and final time. Now she was dead, and those men went on living.

          The village was quiet and still as he led the horse to the stable. He had slung her body over the horse’s back and covered her with the blanket from his saddle. Although he tried his best to hold back the tears, several escaped and streamed down his cheeks. He stopped when he reached her house and released the reigns. A small blonde haired girl stood at the door, the rain soaking through her pale blue dress. He remained there, unable to move. After a moment or two, the young man came to his knees and beckoned the child to come to him. She walked over to her mother’s cousin and took his hands. He looked up at her and jerked back the tears.

          “This is not how it was supposed to end.” He whispered, and those men went on living.

Reviews

[WriterMe]

Wow, this was brilliant. The use of words made a series of emotion play through me. Very strong, powerful use of imagery and really good description. Great job =]