I’ve always had a fascination with fiction.  Be it books, or movies, even song.  Fantasy, sci-fi, and horror have intrigued me since I was a child.  So many of my favorite forms of media are highly fictional, or inspired by works of fiction.  I’ve always had a sort of romantic fascination with certain aspects of it.  Bravery and sacrifice, imaginary beasts, etc.  I love reading tales of valiant warriors fighting until the bitter end.  As childish as it may sound, I even try to put myself in their shoes sometimes, and just dream away.

Now I have never been much of a writer, and I never thought that I would even attempt writing anything in my life.  Which is strange, considering I love to read.  But I’ve found a new passion for it recently, and I find it quite invigorating to immerse myself in it.  I may lack technical skill, but I do have a vivid imagination.  So I thought I would try to come up with my own little piece of fiction, and just see how it turns out.  So be gentle please, it’s my first time.




The Doubtful Warrior

The silence stirred all around him as the night slithered in like a serpent. He stood there in the door-way, impassive and unflinching. He knew they would come for him soon, but there was no turning back now; night was all ready upon him. He reached for his lighter, the familiar glossy feel of the Zippo brought a brief smile to his old scarred face. He put the cigarette to his mouth and struck it. “These things’ll kill you.” He laughed to himself. The warm smoke filled his lungs, providing reprieve from the cold still of the night. For a brief moment, he allowed himself to take a quick stroll through his mind. Thoughts of love and joy were quickly subdued by thoughts of the ensuing darkness. They had taken everything from him, his anger rose. His left fist tightened into a ball, while his right reached for the grip of his gun. It’s touch brought with it a strange comfort.

He knew this would be his final stand, here in this place of such death and anguish. Strange it should end here, considering this is where it started. “How did it come to this?” He mused to himself. His memory was foggy, most likely stained by bloodshed. Some things are better forgotten. He was certain of one thing though; he would not live to see the morning sun, never again would he feel it’s warm touch.  His fingers made their way to the spot on his face where he had been torn open; the long and deep scar served as a reminder of past events.  He couldn’t help but laugh a maniacal laugh. The absurdity of the situation was almost too much to bear. Not long ago he had been an ordinary man, living an ordinary life. He had a nice home, and a happy life. He had a girl once.

He remembered Lisa, and suddenly re-kindled an old memory. One that all the bloodshed in the world could not tarnish. She was lying on his bed, half asleep. Her hair a mess, her makeup smeared. This was how he chose to remember her, the real her. She had shed her summer dress for a more appropriate night gown, and the sheerness of it brought out the curves of her body. She couldn’t see him staring, but she must have felt it. She turned to look at him, giving a lazy smile, he had no choice but to smile back. “What’s so funny?” She asked with a giggle. Without a response he strode over to the bedside, he sat down next to her and placed his hand on her hips. He then caressed her soft blonde hair, admiring the beauty of it. He reached down and put his hand on her face and went to turn her towards him. Her face was alarmingly cold. When her head rolled over limp, he saw that her eyes were black and lifeless, her lips purple and her skin a pale white. She had been dead for 2 years now. This was his last image of her.

He had drifted in his own thoughts for too long. He heard movement in the bushes near him, instinctively he pulled out his gun. Out of the corner of his eye he thought he saw something, a blur; maybe his imagination? No, He heard the familiar panting now, almost canine like in sound, and he knew this was no hallucination. The panting persisted, drawing closer. Suddenly he found himself in doubt. “Why did you come back here you old fool? What are you trying to prove?” He cursed himself. It was too late now, the panting grew louder and more abundant. How many of them there were, he couldn’t say. “Enough.” He thought…more than enough. These are the bastards that stole his life away, now they’ve come to finish the job. Then the doubt ceded, and the maniacal smile crept back onto his lips. He would take as many of these vile creatures with him as he could; straight to hell. From the corner of his eye he saw the signature red eyes of one of the beasts. In this moment of fight or flight, he stood his ground; as he swore he would so many times before. He shifted his gun, aimed, and pulled the trigger…

“Lisa, I’ll see you soon my sweet princess.”