Past Tense

Whew! Life sure keeps you busy in a hurry! It’s been about 4 days since my last post and I’ve hardly had the time to string together a few words for the blog! I’ve been working on a family project, which although I had some good fun doing, I am now glad it’s over! I can now get back to other projects I have on my to do list! Most of those are from my 30 in 30 list, but I have a new project I’m developing that has recently taken the drivers seat, putting all others on the back burner. I won’t talk about it now, but I’ll be dishing some news on it now and then… when it’s safe to do so! Also, we’ve had a few birthdays and anniversaries to celebrate recently, which puts all personal plans on hold (and rightly so!). As you can see Sam is pooped and so are Mom and Dad…

So as mentioned above, I’m working on this family project and I see this… Check it out and let me know what you think…honestly.

The armored foot hit impossibly fast causing him to stagger. He knew what would come next. Then, the blade bit deep, scraping on bone, and drove through his ribs. The pain was paralyzing as the blade was pulled from his failing body. He grasped the wound with one hand and kept waging a hopeless battle with the shield he held in the other. Blocking blow after forceful blow from his assailant, he tried to regain his footing, but found his legs betraying him. No strength would come of them, he knew doom was upon him. The storm had reached full force and the lashing rain stung friend and foe alike upon which deafening thunder played through the somber clouds. Sparks flew as another merciless blow rung on his shield and his defenses were down. He lay there in child like fear, eyes wide in terror and pain. Arms spread wide, too heavy to lift, he lay there vulnerable, alone and cold. He had the look of a man who didn’t want to die, not this way. The thoughts and memories of his life multiplied in his mind lending him comfort in his last breath. His murderer hefted the bloody sword that had slain most of his friends and looked deeply into his eyes. Pure evil was there. The man cried and whimpered as the slender steel whistled through the air for the killing blow.

The cry sliced through the sky like lightning and the blocking sword wasn’t far behind. A young boy, a lad, a child, had stopped the deathblow and now found himself in a deadly dance of steel. The darkness turned with unnatural speed lending its terror to the youthful warrior. The boy fought with the courage of ten men. Weaving and bobbing, he dodged the crippling blows of the murderer. He attacked with techniques taught to him by his father, and these were passed on through the many generations of his family. He fought with pride and balance, clearly the best fighter his family had produced in a long hierarchy of great fighters.

The horrendous sounds of war filling his ears, he sat staring from the mud clutching his punctured body, he knew this child was a prodigy. One who had grown so fast and so strong could only be a hero. Hope flickered in his frail soul. To him the rain had suddenly stopped, the thunder had been silenced, his gaze fixed upon the young phenom. He found resolve at the sight of this and got to his feet and reached for his sword…but the murderer had claimed it’s latest victim. The man dropped to the mud to see if he could still save the boy, but once again the armored boot came crashing down, this time on his fingers shattering them. He reeled from the pain and looked at his murderer. Their eyes didn’t lock this time for the sword flashed without hesitation and darkness fell upon him…

And that’s it! If you care to leave a comment below, I’m just curious for a reaction. That was written by me over 7 years ago… Safe to say that my reading of it now has changed my perception of how I thought I used to write. But we are “our own worst critics“.

That’s it for now, catch you later!