The RealityA Story by JebEh, I was sitting around outside just thinking, and ended up writing this. Please enjoy.The rain fell, washing away the smell of blood that had taken over the field before. The man's eyes shot open as drops of water fell onto his face. He stared up into the sky, his mind trying to make sense of the current situation. Pain shot through his body as he tried to move. With his head pounding and his muscles aching, he decided to just lay there and try to remember what event brought him to this point. Suddenly, it all came crashing back into his mind.
He was a marskman, marching with hundreds of men under a certain lord's (Whose name escaped him) banner. The scouts had reported seeing a large force a mile away, marching in their direction. The lord, being reputable for keeping a calm demeanor in the face of danger, decided to wait on the hill they were currently on. This hill was covered with a dense forest and overlooked a grassy plain, where neither a tree nor rock were seen for miles. His plan was to wait until they entered the plain, then let the main force charge down into the fray while the archers stayed up top, raining down arrows from behind the trees. Sadly, it did not go as planned.
Once the hostile forces entered the plain, hundreds of lightly-armoured and ill equipped soldiers ran down the hill, their swords raised to the skies. Following them, multiple knights went charging down the hill clumsily, their heavy plate armor and large, two-handed weapons weighing them down. As the battle raged on, things were going as planned. The man stood on the edge of the hill with the rest of his brothers and shot arrows into the ensuing chaos below.
However, out of nowhere, a guttural scream pierced the usual sound of clashing steel. He turned around quickly, only to find his lord falling off of his steed, an arrowhead protruding from his chest. From the shadows of the trees emerged soldiers dressed in pitch black leather armor.
The man took a few steps back, trying to keep as much distance from himself and this new threat as possible. After a few seconds of staring at each other, the blackened soldiers charged forward at the man and his fellow archers. The man only remembered running backwards and down the hill, towards the raging battle. The hell below consumed him, and after that everything went black.
He shook his head, which only managed to make his pounding head hurt more, and begin the grueling process of trying to sit up. After a few minutes of grunting and grinding his teeth, he managed to get himself upright. The sight before him left him speechless and disgusted. The beautiful grassy plain that was there had been replaced by a gruesome, body-covered field of death. He could no longer see the grass. The stench of blood had been washed away, yet it lingered in the man's nostrils. That ensuing scent of blood and death would stay with him for the rest of his life, as would that haunting picture.
A tear fell to the ground. His body went limp and he stared to the ground. This was it. Years of training, and obeying orders, only to be ended by one, quick battle. It was so stupid, he thought to himself. Marching to fight at the orders of one, single man. He was no more than a puppet, obeying his master's commands.
He stood, taking in the final sight of the graveyard around him before starting to walk. He did not know where he would go, or what he would do. His only hope would be if someone came along searching for the two missing lords. The rain fell, hiding the tears that were let out as he walked away, leaving that god-forsaken place that had shattered his reality and left him with nothing. © 2010 JebAuthor's Note
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StatsAuthorJebSome Smelly Town, WVAboutIf you want to know about me, then please send a message and ask me yourself. =) If I get a read request or review your work, then I WILL pick it apart piece by piece, analyzing everything. It is n.. more..Related WritingPeople who liked this story also liked..
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