He sharpened his axe. Whetstone in hand. Careful, controlled motions. The sound of steel grinding on stone.
He prepared himself mentally for the upcoming battle. He slowed his breathing, and focused his mind on the axe-blade in front of him.
After some time had passed, he examined the axe. The metal gleamed in the sunlight. Soft, leather strips wrapped around the handle were dark and worn with use. This axe had been passed down, father to son, for years. He wasn't sure who had originally forged it, but it wasn't his father. It was excellently crafted. The creator's many years of experience were clearly evident. Briefly, he wondered what his father would think of how he occupied his time these days. No. He didn't care what he thought. He ran his finger perpendicular to the blade edge to test its sharpness. He took a deep breath. Then another. He was ready.
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Tidbits
AcakSince I am unable to write a complete story, I'll just compile old story pieces, and compose new ones, here. Edit. I'm just gonna post any creative writings that I find. Be it poems, story beginnings, verses, whatever. Enjoy.
