Short Fiction. Part 2.

Each thrust into their wretched bodies painted the ground with gristle and sinew. Blood, if any petered out grimly. In a slow march to the ground. Like sludge from smelting ore. Except in a wretched black hue.
 
Things weren’t always this desperate.With every parry, riposte and slash I’m flooded of memories of what once was.
 
A strong city led by a council, nay a brotherhood. A lineage forged by indomitable trust, courage and absolute secrecy, spanning over generations. Established by once warring chiefs with the inherent understanding that peace is ever fragile and only the utmost discretion can sure its everlasting survival.
 
My thoughts were interrupted by the appearance of more foul monstrosities. Slipping in and out of the past whilst dismembering these creatures as is now a habitual occurrence. By daybreak of what seemed like an eternity, the ground was bathed in ebony.
 
I am the last of this tainted brotherhood, this accursed bloodline. This is my story.
 
 
 
 

 

 

 

 

4 thoughts on “Short Fiction. Part 2.

  1. Pingback: Short Fiction. Part 4. | Slackerninja's Freestyle Dojo

  2. Pingback: Short Fiction. Part 5. | Slackerninja's Freestyle Dojo

  3. Pingback: Short Fiction. Part 6. | Slackerninja's Freestyle Dojo

  4. Pingback: Short Fiction. Part 7. | Slackerninja's Freestyle Dojo

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