This is a short story i wrote... Idk if anyone will read this.. but if anyone does.. I do take criticism.. All around me; all around me they were dying. All of them…were just falling to the ground. As if they were old logs standing on end, they just fell and all of this was my fault. I caused this. The temper that I have to live with got the best of me. The events that brought this to pass were of my doing only three weeks before. I was a young, naïve son of a General. I was trained to fight in hand-to-hand combat and was very skilled with a blade. My father knew I wasn’t ready. He never retired. If he would have, I would have become General. He knew better and now I can see why. He died soon after my twentieth birthday. I became General and leader of the largest army in the world. At my first war meeting I immediately suggested war when I heard about the rebels attacking the edge of our borders. No one could dispute my reasoning, so the plan was put into effect. I was appointed first in command to lead the campaign. The next morning, I prepared for the journey. At high noon, we began. Commoners waved and cheered to all the soldiers that walked pass. We all started with high hopes, but they didn’t last. Four days after we departed some of the men lost sight of the reason we were on the campaign. They began to doubt the sudden urge for a fight in an extended period of peace between the kingdoms. One evening several of them came into my tent wondering why they march. I answered them with the orders given by the king. They backed down and—with my own pride revealed—left the tent. I just imagined the many victories that would come at my command, just as they did from my father’s. I alone was his successor; his son. I wanted to be him. On the seventh day, we came to a small farming village. The only problem was that there was no one there. It looked like the people just up and left without so much as eating breakfast first. I thought nothing of it and commanded my army to continue. As we reached the center of the village, people jumped out from everywhere. Many of them had swords while the others had pitch forks. They attacked the soldiers with ferocity and desperation. They were beaten back fairly quickly. The soldiers disarmed them and corralled them into a circle. One of them pleaded to me to help them, to give them only a few supplies so they can get to another village. I—blinded by both rage and pride—ordered their execution. One soldier asked me if that was necessary and I gave him the order again then, walked away. As I did, loud shrieks and screams landed on deaf ears. The orders were carried out, then, the campaign continued. By this time the soldiers only followed my orders by loyalty to the king, but they did still. We passed many more farming villages in the next seven days. None of which attacked like the one before did. Each time we were asked to help, I refused. The soldiers repeatedly apologized for my arrogance. Often there would be small amounts of the rations that would go missing, but were quickly recovered when a hunt would be sent out. I paid little attention to it. Finally on the fifteenth day we reached the border. I yelled to the men that we had reached it and a low rumble was let out. When I turned back to look forwards, I saw something at the edge of the trees on the other side of the clearing. They were soldiers. They were from the neighboring kingdom. There wasn’t very many of them, but we marched closer to them at high alert. Upon closer observation I saw that they weren’t soldiers at all. They were common farmers with poorly made armor and they weren’t from our neighbor, they were from the villages that we had passed. I was advised to negotiate with them, but I refused, thinking that if they were here for a fight, then, they would get one. I ordered the soldiers to attack. They hesitated for a second then proceeded. The farmers saw this and charged as well. There wasn’t much fight to the farmers. They began dropping like flies within minutes. Once they began to surrender I ordered the soldiers to finish them off. With heavy hearts they did as I commanded. Only my soldiers and I left that field alive. It was now littered with bodies. We made camp only a league from that clearing. Some of the men were shaken by what happened. Others became emotionless; only following orders. None disobeyed. A messenger came, bringing word from the kingdom which we just entered. The king had heard of our campaign a while back and sent the messenger right away. He presented it to me and requested that I read it carefully. The message said to stop the campaign or be stopped with deadly force. I laughed at the words on the page, thinking that my army was invincible. They hadn’t lost yet and won’t lose at all. I send a reply to the king telling him that I would not stop. My campaign continued. Five days later we were met by an army. It was smaller than the one I commanded. I smiled at the chance for victory. The king and his advisor gave the signal that they wanted to talk, so I humored them. They asked that I stop this. I laughed at them. They warned me of the future events that would unfold because of my decision, but I still refused. We returned to our armies and waited in the silence before battle. I raised my sword and gave the signal to attack. They returned it by doing the same. The soldiers on both sides clashed with gleaming steel and many clanks. The fight was brutal and tireless. It seemed to extend hours within only minutes. It took the longest time before any one soldier would fall, but once they did, it didn’t stop. They began falling faster and faster; only mine though. So, I sent in the more of them to balance the loss. It worked for a while, then, it started again. Only a few of the others had fallen. I sent in my final set—which included me. This time, it seemed that we had the upper hand. More and more of the other soldiers began to fall. I became even more confident. Then, the fight flipped. The other soldiers began fighting faster and stronger than ever. My soldiers were overwhelmed. They were too powerful. I was standing in the middle of the fight which now was a massacre; not of their forces but of mine. Anywhere I looked, I saw one of my soldiers being torn to pieces, slice though the bone, or brought to their knees and executed. Everywhere I saw death; death of my soldiers and death of my power, my strength. All of it was falling before me. All of the things that made me anything like my father were slipping through my fingers. The king ordered his men to fall back. They formed a wall that was three rows thick just pass the far side of the fight. They were given the command to proceed and they walked forward in unison. All of them were instep and without emotion. As they walked over the bodies of my soldiers they would thrust their blades into them. They weren’t doing this for intimidation purposes; they’re doing it to kill everyone. They walk closer and closer to where I stand. Every living soldier would cry out in pain as they were executed. I fell to my knees at the sight; my sward and shield on either side of me. This was my fault. In my will to become my father I had become the exact opposite. In my pride, I had become a merciless, power-hungry tyrant of a soldier that had lost his honor the day he chose war over all else. The wall of soldiers—now only feet from my position—stopped. The one in the center stepped forward. He held up his sword and—with an empty face—thrust it.
Posted on: Wed, 23 Oct 2013 15:06:52 +0000
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