Wed, Sep 26th - 8:23AM
The Battle Within Us
By Daniel Hollyfield
The war drums were beating. The battle formations were drawn. The armies were ready for battle. Many would fall this day never to rise again. From those who survive, some will drink the wine of victory while others will taste the bitterness of defeat. Many will fight but few will leave their mark on the pages of history. I will be one of them.
I have been in many battles, fought many warriors and slain many champions. Where men fought for freedom, honor, revenge, ideology or mere wages; I fought for the thrill of combat. Combat has always been the elixir of my life. I have prepared and waited for this day, the day when two mighty empires collide. The day when I will once again bath in glory, but I had never realized that this day would be different.
As per custom champions start the fight. I charged forward on my stead and soon faced my challenger at the center of the battlefield. I dismount. All eyes were now upon us. Every soul present eagerly awaits the outcome. War had begun. I charge at my target. He is ready with his spear. He throws; I maneuver to my right, he misses his mark. I close in, leap and thrust my sword aiming for his neck. He counters with his shield. We charged like hawks, attacked like wolves. We attacked and countered, matching every move sword to sword, shield to shield.
I picked my pace and jabbed my sword at him. He dashes left avoiding my blow and with a dexterous slash of his sword bruises my leg. I lose balance, before I could recover; his shield smashes into my face. I fell; I could sense him moving in for the kill. I removed my damaged helmet and got up. His steady movements now wavered. His mind seems distracted. His eyes stared my face. They showed fear or maybe concern. I couldn't care less I had got my opening. I moved with lightening speed slitting his throat with my sword. I removed his helmet, looked at his face as life left his eyes. My sword fell from my hand. My mind went numb. The man laying dead in front of me, the man whose life I took, was my brother. Blood left his throat as tears left my eyes. I stood there and wept, I could hear the armies marching towards each other. More fighting will take place. More brothers will die today. I closed my tear filled eyes, standing at my brother's body, awaiting my fate.
I opened my eyes, my body was trembling. It was a dream, a terrible dream but how much of it is different from reality, I wonder. Are we not today killing our brothers in humanity for selfish ends? Are we not burning them alive in the fire of our greed? There is no glory in that only shame. To slay the inner monster, to tame the wild ego, to curb the undue hatred, to win the battle within, that my brothers is the only thing worth of any glory.
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