The Fight


I ducked under the mighty swing of the sword. Blood trickled down my face like sweat. My entire body was put into use. I pulled out my sword just in time to block another mighty blow. I have dreamt about this. The only chance I had to save my sister was almost gone. I had to be smart and quick. One simple mistake could lead to my death.
Another attack came from my right. I blocked it, spun around and sliced the man’s chest. Another man charged at me with his sword in front of him. I ducked down and he flipped right over my back.
I have been fighting for hours now. The battle never seemed to end. So much blood shed from our skins and so many tears fell to the earth. I was ready to give up and just die. But I could not. My sister was more important. I needed to get to her. I needed to find her. But I never could. She was lost. Taken by men who sought to take the world from the world. Men who were vicious. Men who were angry. Men who brought the tears.
Another sword came at me. I blocked it and killed the attacker. I didn’t like killing these people. Even though they chose to bring in terror. They still were human beings. Why must we kill our pursuers? Why can’t we treat them with kindness and forgive? The only true argument for this would be that these men were trying to create a perfect world.
I understood why we had to kill these people. They were terrible. They killed the innocent. But if we really wanted to make a perfect world without terrorizing it, then why do we fight the fight? I didn’t know if I would ever understand.

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