1. Ferret
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    Ferret Contributing Member

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    The parts of your soul you refuse to recognize.

    SS Comp 02 winner

    Discussion in 'Bi-Weekly Short Story Contest Archives' started by Ferret, Jun 26, 2007.

    Men of Dreams, by Heather.
    Writing Forums - View Single Post - SS Comp 02
    Congradulations

    _______________________________

    Men of Dreams

    Smoke billowed from my once beautiful city, black clouds hanging in the already dark night sky. The blanket of smoke covered all stars in sight and prevented the moon from shining, making the flames the only light available. A tall wall ringed around the city, half of it collapsed towards the North. For years it had held strong, keeping my people safe from invaders, but suddenly the wall was no longer there and soldiers, foreigners were piling into my city. My beautiful city.

    I watched the scene unfold from the temporary safety of a balcony on my castle. Below in the streets people ran from house to house, being chased and tortured by the invaders. A tear seeped down my wrinkled cheek as I watched my city collapse around me, the buildings burn to cinders and the people turn to ash. My people in my bloody city.

    Suddenly a feeling of anger overcome my body, springing my up from my seat and making me lunge for my sword that hung on the mantle. I placed it in my belt and ran downstairs to gather people, anyone who would be willing to fight for his leader. His city. His life. In the kitchen a group of about twenty men lounged around drinking ale. The men were lazy and not skilled warriors, un-prepared to fight.

    “Men, this is your bloody city! Your women and children are out there dying right now and you want to hide in here and drink! I tell you, wield your weapons men and get out there!” At my speech the first man jumped up, then another, and another. They followed me from room to room, the group increasing as I gathered more men.

    Eventually I had enough for an attack. There must have been nearly two hundred men in front of me with their swords and knifes and crossbows and clubs, all ready and willing to fight.

    “Men, this is the day we make history. We can either hide away in the castle, which before long will be broke anyway, and we can die cowards. Or we can get up and fight! Fight like we have never fought before and we will win this war! We are the men of the future! We are the men of the city! We are the men!” At this the crowd roared with anger and agreement, holding weapons and fists into the air and ready to go.

    “Men, we are the men of dreams!”

    The main gates to the castle burst open and we spilled out into the city grounds. It was a disaster. Fire burned from everywhere possible and dead bodies piled in the streets. Sifting our way through the rubble and dead, we collected more men ready to fight. Finally we saw the first foreigner. He held a cup of wine and drank heavily from it. My bloody cup! Anger bubbled inside of me and I lunged forward with my sword held out before me. The blade pierced deep into his chest, breaking several ribs along the way. Once it was half was through I twisted me hand, ripping out his insides as I pulled my sword from his body. He fell dead at my feet.

    Surged and wanting a fight we continued, checking houses and market stalls along the way for stray invaders. At last we came upon the main group of them; all drinking and singing around a big bonfire. At the sound of us they turned to view their enemies, and at once charges. My men and I pushed forward, blades swinging and stabbing all over the place. Blood poured from the wounds of men, both my warriors and the invaders, staining the floor forever crimson. Screams filled the once silent air, echoing for miles across the open lands past the city. My city! I slashed another foreigner, taking relief in the pain I caused his blood covered face.

    Over the next few hours much blood was lost and many lives taken. My men died in the battle, every single on of them. I was saved for last. Like a true leader I never surrendered, not even when it was all the invaders against me alone. I died at the sword of Patrico, the well known leader of the invaders. And with me I took as many bloody foreigners as I could.

    We lost the battle; in fact we lost the war. I watched my city crumble to ashes before my very eyes, and I tried as hard as I could to prevent it. But we died fighters, warriors, fighting for our city, our family and our lives. We died the men of dreams.
     
  2. Cogito
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    Cogito Former Mod, Retired Supporter Contributor

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    Congratulations, Heather! Nice work!
     
  3. Gannon
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    Gannon Contributing Member Contributor

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    Well done Heather, I didn't 'win you' this time but that'll just spur me on to do better next. Well done again!
     
  4. Heather Louise
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    Heather Louise Contributing Member Contributor

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    lol Gannon :p your story was excellent also, an enjoyable read. and thanks Cogito :)
    Heather
     
  5. Domoviye
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    Domoviye Contributing Member

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    Congratulations
     
  6. Heather Louise
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    Heather Louise Contributing Member Contributor

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    thanks :):)
     

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