Post by sugar on Feb 25, 2019 9:52:50 GMT 1
He staggered to the ruins, soaked with sweat. Blood dripped into his eyes in crimson rivulets. It was over. He was home now. Fatigue and nostalgia meshed together in a haze of memories and reality. The thick clouds above him blurring and molding together into a dreary gray sky matched his mood.
How long had it been since he had seen this place: Weeks, months, ages? He ran his hand over the remains of a house wall. The craggy mortar and soft moss beneath his fingers seemed strange. Had this been his home? The toppled chimney behind him was growing a wild garden in the fireplace. Was this really home?
It had been a long journey, there and back again. He had fought and even loved it at times. He had the scars to prove it. He squeezed his arm tighter. More blood seeped through his fingers. The last battle that plagued him was finally over. Disapproval was the only thing that had spared him. The dense air popped his ears, muffling everything but his thoughts.
He ground his teeth at the memory. How stupid had he been to not predict.
He had let the prospect of being so close to home drop his defenses and war trained instincts like a fresh recruit. The sharp blow to his head left him fumbling for his senses and his blade. His skull was still throbbing from the fresh wound.
He shook the memories from his mind. Blood seeped and clung down his arm. His return was far from the joyous welcoming throng or the spiteful glares or stones and chicken’s blood being thrown his way. His greeting was solitude. After trials, battles, doubts, and horrors to last him more than a lifetime’s worth; silence and rest were perfect salutations. More drops fell around him a soft applause of watery hands.
Was it worth it? Was this all he had to show for, to prove, this tiny, shambled hamlet around him? He slumped down. Blood clouded his eyes again. He swiped it away. The conglomeration of forgotten homes stood like sentry of guards around him. He scanned the remnants around him, He recalled scattered faces of friends, families, his family, to protect their memories, life and hardships with none but him to remember it. Others had survived, fled to other villages, only he dared to return here.
How long had it been since he had seen this place: Weeks, months, ages? He ran his hand over the remains of a house wall. The craggy mortar and soft moss beneath his fingers seemed strange. Had this been his home? The toppled chimney behind him was growing a wild garden in the fireplace. Was this really home?
It had been a long journey, there and back again. He had fought and even loved it at times. He had the scars to prove it. He squeezed his arm tighter. More blood seeped through his fingers. The last battle that plagued him was finally over. Disapproval was the only thing that had spared him. The dense air popped his ears, muffling everything but his thoughts.
He ground his teeth at the memory. How stupid had he been to not predict.
He had let the prospect of being so close to home drop his defenses and war trained instincts like a fresh recruit. The sharp blow to his head left him fumbling for his senses and his blade. His skull was still throbbing from the fresh wound.
He shook the memories from his mind. Blood seeped and clung down his arm. His return was far from the joyous welcoming throng or the spiteful glares or stones and chicken’s blood being thrown his way. His greeting was solitude. After trials, battles, doubts, and horrors to last him more than a lifetime’s worth; silence and rest were perfect salutations. More drops fell around him a soft applause of watery hands.
Was it worth it? Was this all he had to show for, to prove, this tiny, shambled hamlet around him? He slumped down. Blood clouded his eyes again. He swiped it away. The conglomeration of forgotten homes stood like sentry of guards around him. He scanned the remnants around him, He recalled scattered faces of friends, families, his family, to protect their memories, life and hardships with none but him to remember it. Others had survived, fled to other villages, only he dared to return here.