Regretfully Indifferent

Fight the Power. Stay Informed.

Monday, December 01, 2003

With every ounce of strength he could summon, he drew in his breath for one last time. "In your hands…" he said. His speech fell unintelligible for a moment, as his soul began to consent to its impending departure, "…dying…rest in wings of gold". His chest sank as he uttered this final, haunting whisper... this closing contemplation... this scattered, broken sentence that seized his every passionate thought. His arm shook as his fingers brushed against the broken, bleeding flesh above his ear. The fatal grip of forever's silence took its hold as the gleaming, blood-stained edge of an ancient broadsword struck true into his chest sending him bounding helplessly into the air and suspending him from a concrete wall just feet from where the battle began. The assassin watched as the boy's lifeless form slid down the razor-sharp edge of the broadsword. Being forced down by his own weight, his body split from the chest, up through his collarbone just to the right of his neck. As his body hit the ground, the assassin drew his sword from the cracked, crimson-stained wall, and turned toward the remains of the Great city...

That's right kiddies...the history books have been re-opened, and authoring has begun again on what is destined to be... a book.

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