A night of a bloody battle, A valiant warrior who sported a white robe, Slashed and cut down many of his foes, The sight to be seen was like, The rose petals swirling around and around in the wind, As he lay his enemies in ruin littering the battlefield around him, His white robe came red as he slaughtered more and more people, The blood drenched warrior soon came to an end, As the many cuts upon his body slowly drained his blood from his body as he slowly died, His partners in this battle came to him and gave him a finishing blow to the heart, Lunging there swords into his chest his life came to a quick end, And he to became one of the rotting corpse’ upon the field of lost souls.
s/n:
ah well, it's not the best of my works but hey it's something at least...
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1 comment:
Well... I enjoyed the idea of a hero figure who we at first believe will be alright, but who quickly is revealed as one of the many who die.. as if to say every single warrior on the field is "the hero" entering the battle, but yet most of them die.
I thought the writing was a little choppy... and this sentence "As the many cuts upon his body slowly drained his blood from his body as he slowly died" distracted from the flow of the rest.
Also, as a completely new reader, I would appreciate you not ending your stories with a note about how its not your best work. Leave all self-pity away from the work, and let me decide it's value.
-Jsnake
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