Random Short Stories

The Samurai Moon

So, this is an old story. I wrote it a year ago—my first try at the description of things. You can tell how poorly this compared to the first story of this book, which is why I am posting this story. Read chapter one, then this chapter, and tell me how much I grew in a year. Anyway, enjoy :)

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The black backdrop makes the millions of little stars shine like diamonds. And in the center of the sea of stars, the most significant diamond is the moon. Unlike the others that glow white, the moon shines the color of blood, where the cold mountain meets the blood-red sphere that bathed everything in red and white light.

As the moon glows alone, a young samurai walks in the night — his red and tan ō-yoroi armor hangs from his body. The Dō, or chest plate, hangs from the samurai's chest down to his knees, and by his waist, it turns into a kind of skirt. The, or shoulder pads, are big slices of armor that hang on the samurai's shoulders. The Sangu is the protection for the arms and legs. The Kabuto is the last part of the Samurai. It is the helmet that they wear to scare their enemies and for protection. They may look smooth, but they feel jagged, rough, and worn down with some scratches and dirty spots all over.

As the young samurai makes his way to his routine stop to watch the moon, he listens to the sounds of crickets, howls, the hoots of owls, and the wind rattling the Kikko. He rests his steady hands on the two swords by his waist: the Kanta, the long one, and the wakisazshi, the short one. One to fight and one to die with honor, Seppuku. The leather handles of the swords give the young samurai a calming feeling.

With most of his head covered by the Kabuto, his blue alive shape eyes stare at the moon with a mix of sadness and happiness washing over him. When the eyes meet the blood-colored moon, they become an orange color in the light, making his expression look more severe than relaxed. Just as the young samurai thought he would have a peaceful time on top of the mountain this chilly night, he heard the subtle sound of a twig snapping. With the speed of lightning, he spins around, hand ready to draw his Kanata; he gets into a battle stance. Even though his heart races, his face reads expressionless.

Everything seems to freeze. From afar, the young samurai appears to be relaxed, but upon closer look, his muscles are tense. The young samurai looks calm, but he could feel his heart race. As the sound maker shows their face, the only thing showing was the eyes, which was hard to make out. Then the sounds of steel scraping against each other, screams of pain, and war cry ring throughout. Soon, the once green grass was now as red as the moon with the young samurai standing like a giant in the middle of a field of dead bodies. His once seemingly clean ō-yoroi was now blood-covered. The blood runs off the sides of the armor like a stream or waterfall.