Friday, August 17, 2012

Left Alive

He awoke to sounds of men screaming all around him.  "Am I this...hell?"  He tried to stand, but felt pinned to the ground.  Staring down at his feet he noticed the spear that was driven straight through his gut and deep into the ground.  Last he remembered was  that he had been knocked from his horse, right onto his back.
"KILL ME, PLEASE!" he heard from his compatriots and enemies alike who were writhing in pain to wounds that had not yet claimed their lives.  He knew by the warm flow from his mid section that if he were not to act soon, would be among the dead.
He tried to move, but every stretch he could feel his wound tear more and more.  He grasped the spear in one hand breathed deep and then with his other.  He tried to break the weapon, but could not get any leverage.   He needed something to break his imprisonment.  When he laid his head back on the ground and turned to the left, he saw his friend...well, half of him anyways.  His axe was in arms' reach.  Or so he thought.  He reached out, but his wound told him no, as it tore the wound even more.  He reached out again, screaming in pain.  He thought about how far the spear could be dug in the ground.  Reaching out again, tears in his eyes, fingers tearing at the dirt, he finally reached the axe.
He gripped the spear again...held as hard as he could...and with his free hand swung with the blood stained axe.  He hit it twice.  It snapped six inches above his wound.
He talked himself into getting off the stake.  Knowing the pain it would take...all he could think about was exacting revenge...he thought about the death around him...he saw his face.  Teeth grit, body tense.  He leaned up.  Pulled himself over the wood spear.
The warrior stood, tore some clothing from his fallen friend and wrapped it tight around his waist and winced in pain.  He knew it wouldn't last.  He knew he would be dead shortly.  Maybe long enough to make it to the next battlefield to extract some sort of revenge.  Maybe he would die before making his tenth step.
Picked up his sword, then his helmet, dusted it off, and placed it back upon his head, looked into the distance, and said to himself; "I'm coming for you." And began walking.