Dream
And he was gone.
Just like that. Just like a candle's flame that has been blown out.
Right in front of his own two eyes.
He had seen firsthand the viciousness of the monsters. How they stalked their prey. How they taunted it. How they killed it. The old man had done his best to fend them off, but that had not been enough. He was too old, too slow, even too weak.
From behind his tree he had seen the arrows fly, the monsters' bellow, the blood spill. He had wanted to scream, to cry, to run away, and hide till the nightmares left. But no, he had stayed there, perfectly still, watching and becoming the last person ever to see this man alive. He stayed there, even as people in black robes had finally arrived and finished what the old man had died trying to accomplish. He stayed there, even as they had taken his soul with them. And until now he stayed there, frozen, rooted to the spot, an almost perfect statue.
It was his first time to see death. And his first time to see blood. So much blood. Just so much blood. He just stared at it blankly, his mind seemingly unable to process, possibly in shock.
He finally moves, taking one shaky step towards the man. Or rather the dead husk of what had been a living, breathing human being. He kept walking as if in a trance, slowly, carefully. And sat beside the corpse, arms around his legs, chin on his knees, his young eyes never leaving the form beside him. Silently, he told himself he was not afraid. He was not afraid.
... He was. He was extremely terrified- what if they came back, and found him? He hugged his knees tighter, struggling not to cry.
Suddenly, a voice muttered in his ear. "Seele Schneider."
He looked around, confused. He sat up properly, looking around. Who had spoken?
"Pick it up."
The little boy looked to the side. Beside him was a metal rod as long as his arm. The voice in his ear began to speak louder, urging him on. "Pick it up. Take it. Take it. It's yours."
He didn't know what it was, but nevertheless, he reached for it. When he took it in his hands, it suddenly ignited, growing a large, blue blade. He looked at it in wonder. The mysterious voice began to whisper again. This time, he could not understand what is was saying.
Just like that. Just like a candle's flame that has been blown out.
Right in front of his own two eyes.
He had seen firsthand the viciousness of the monsters. How they stalked their prey. How they taunted it. How they killed it. The old man had done his best to fend them off, but that had not been enough. He was too old, too slow, even too weak.
From behind his tree he had seen the arrows fly, the monsters' bellow, the blood spill. He had wanted to scream, to cry, to run away, and hide till the nightmares left. But no, he had stayed there, perfectly still, watching and becoming the last person ever to see this man alive. He stayed there, even as people in black robes had finally arrived and finished what the old man had died trying to accomplish. He stayed there, even as they had taken his soul with them. And until now he stayed there, frozen, rooted to the spot, an almost perfect statue.
It was his first time to see death. And his first time to see blood. So much blood. Just so much blood. He just stared at it blankly, his mind seemingly unable to process, possibly in shock.
He finally moves, taking one shaky step towards the man. Or rather the dead husk of what had been a living, breathing human being. He kept walking as if in a trance, slowly, carefully. And sat beside the corpse, arms around his legs, chin on his knees, his young eyes never leaving the form beside him. Silently, he told himself he was not afraid. He was not afraid.
... He was. He was extremely terrified- what if they came back, and found him? He hugged his knees tighter, struggling not to cry.
Suddenly, a voice muttered in his ear. "Seele Schneider."
He looked around, confused. He sat up properly, looking around. Who had spoken?
"Pick it up."
The little boy looked to the side. Beside him was a metal rod as long as his arm. The voice in his ear began to speak louder, urging him on. "Pick it up. Take it. Take it. It's yours."
He didn't know what it was, but nevertheless, he reached for it. When he took it in his hands, it suddenly ignited, growing a large, blue blade. He looked at it in wonder. The mysterious voice began to whisper again. This time, he could not understand what is was saying.