The Good Man Went To War

Ever so slightly lifting his leg, he put it back down again, like a deer out in the woods searching for food. Deserted and scared; walking, fading into the distance the man goes with scorch marks all across him. Blood dripping off his body; his clothes mangled and torn. His face is wracked with pain. His eyes, crystal blue, now show the anger and hatred he has. Only a few pieces of hair cling on to his body as the majority of it is now gone. Many gone and yet so many gained. His ashen face matched that of what has fallen around him. The good man went to war. Fighting so bravely in the hopes of saving his friends. Why could he not just keep walking? Shouting and screaming, so many dead and so many more wounded. Dangerous and fearful people …show more content…
Wind whips and surrounds his body almost making him float up in the air like a feather. The sudden movements of animals make him jerk and fall to the ground like an acorn in the fall. Regaining his grace, continuing on, never looking back at what the land behind him has become. Each step is another step further from the pain and the agonizing realization of what has become of so many. Pine needles dance their way down on to the bodies of those who are dead. He quickens his pace, like a lion as it attacks its prey. The sound of his blood pumping through his veins and his heart racing fills his ears. Echos of screams are close behind trying to grasp the bottoms of his feet. Dirt flying in the air, makes it harder and harder to breathe. The man stops and, like a sudden force has hit him, drops to the ground. The hard ground covered in the little ash that has reached this far seems to almost soften the ground enough that it is comfortable to lie …show more content…
Knowing that his walk of emotions and loneliness is over as well as his days. So much pain fills his body as a blood curdling scream rips through the silence of the forest. Slowly it is known that everything is well. The rain that is still drizzling out of the sky falls upon his body like teardrops rolling down a face. A sheer, cold shiver comes across his body, making him shake fiercely. Smells of all kinds fill his nostrils; some of death and some of the sweet forest he is in. Slowly he gets back up, ignoring all the pain that fills him, and stumbles a few feet. The sadness comes upon him swiftly like a river flowing. Suddenly he realizes why he walked away from this battle; he knew he had done no wrong. The abyssal pit in his stomach is finally filling back up. Relieved of the incubus that had fastened upon him for so a time, and of the dreadful apprehensions under which he is living, makes him hardly the same person. Now elegantly he falls and knows it is alright. Briskly, a warm air fills his body up like a hot air balloon and his last breath flows out of this body. The good man took his last