A/N: this story is pretty close to my heart, myself being a lot like the main character... for me the hardest part is not switching the dimension. From the fantasy world into reality. For those that want lemons go somewhere else, lemonade is not sold here... happy Father's Day, this one is dedicated to my dad. Here's chapter 7
The dreams that haunt me so vividly are of order and chaos combined. The hardest part is letting go of your old and broken ways and not clinging to the madness and insanity of your loneliness. This is what breaks most beings into to two of three categories. The sheep and the sheepdogs. The sheep being those who hide there longing for there other halves and flock together. The sheepdogs are the ones who will go anywhere to protect others and to find there own other half. Then there are the outcasts of the social, they are the wolves, the ones to that run alone or in a small group isolated from everyone else. The truest themselves are the wolves of this world with all there longing and loneliness. We are branded as traitors to the cause of others. Selfish lone runners that don't really contribute anything. We are the dark horses.
The surreal world that we live in is broken. The wolves are blamed for it and they go to great lengths to protect the flocks and sheepdogs alike. A walk down that path is like that of a knife edge, stray but a little and you will fall. The death of a wolf is mourned by none. The road I walk is mine own.
The night passed fast. The truth is nobody knows anything about my pain. The journey to where I am is different from others. The morning sun was beating down on me. The birds chirping. Hawks flying about the sky. The death of insanity in the night. I sat up looked around and saw my sister gone and a trail of bent grass.
I am about to climb out of the tree. When I hear a sound. A Scream, a raven, and fire. I walk over to where they are only to find a vulture clansman in my way. The rage of death in his eyes. I looked down and see his legs are half chopped off, as well as his insides mixing with his outsides. His last meal all over the floor. A wail of agony. His life was gone. I truly understand what happened for the first time. The life being reft asunder, the will gone, the soul dying and the spirit fled. The horror in his eyes the saddest dregs of life left behind. The window in to the soul. The fields of joy left marred by the loss of ones own humanity.
He fell and for the last time looked on this war torn world, the same wonderful world that others lived in peace in. This is the end of the his malice and his kindness to others too. It was like a double edged sword. One side plunging into me and the other into him. I was one step to the edge, and I was about to break. Ignorance is bliss they say, I agree. I surged forward, sword drawn, willing to cut down everything in my path, breaking the spell of serenity on this land. What I saw next was the opposite of what I had expected. I had been suffering alone in my misery, until she had come. She softened my stone cold hateful heart. I knew that it had been that that had changed me. I saw the my twin and her companion holding onto each other like their life depended on it. The let go of each other when I walked into the clearing, they had obivously Made that poor soul of an enemy have a bonding session between his outsides and insides.
I walked up to them and smiled, "That poor guy, his insides and outsides had a lethal bonding session." I said. It was like they started blushing at my description of him and his unorthodox bonding sessions.
It was a summer of darkness. The main event of this whole comedy of errors. This was the last of the innocence in me going with those errors of those above me, all of those errors cost us, those of us who actually fought the vendettas they created. They came and went, that's what they say about the non-General staff, we, the field commanders. The ones fighting there battles. Sometimes I think that the reason that my wife was kidnapped was to wipe me into a rage of death. A gate for others to go though to the next life.
A regret can kill you they say. I say that to go with the flow and be one of the flock is easy, it takes nothing but laziness towards the right cause. To stand alone takes all you have in you not to cave and be consumed. As they say history always forgives those who right it. They were a bunch of pompous gits with the audacity to order us to our deaths.
YOU ARE READING
A Shattered Sword (Incomplete)
AventureThis is the story of a wolf... a wolf with emotions... the wolf-fang and his sister running around trying to find his wife... Rated Mature for deep philosophical underpinnings and themes of insanity.
