[i]Just An Echo[/i] As I stand here, I imagine you try to catch words I am trying to say. But they slip past, a whisper of wind on your skin that makes any person shiver. But won't you listen to my tale? You see, I've been so very tired. When the war came, I took up shields and arms like any respectable man would do. I had already been through many battles, scars like trophies marring my skin. If you were here, I would gladly tell you all the stories of my struggles. Point out each raised flesh on me, prideful of what I had to go through. But the war took that pride away, all I had vanishing from me. I can still picture it so well. Care to picture it with me too? I can always remember the sunshine of that day, the breeze a token of peace out here. The rocky mountain terrain was easy to scale, yet all I wanted to do was run my hand through the golden grass swaying peacefully. They were so eye catching, the patches they grew from between the grey rocks like unyielding warriors. I believed everything was a warrior in its own right. You just to have to look closer at what you see. Our lands were under our feet, the damn invaders claiming our home as theirs yet they have no proof. Did they ever farm such supple lands? Did they know of which rivers that wind and twist a man's life at whim? Did they think that they could take our home without battle? No one could wave such offense away. The peace before the storm, my brethren beside me chanted, eyes darting cautiously around us. I could never get him, how his eyes seemed to rove over every nook and cranny for any threat. My battle sister, eyes alight with fire and that unquenchable need to fight was behind, her iron clad boots clanging on the ground. Behind us, our own ragtag group followed. I believed we were all tired of this insufferable war by now. The way my scars itched made me think that way but I couldn't be so sure. Our giant frames held threat, yet out souls stayed small and flickering in our own hopes and dreams. Peace before the storm I heard once more. I told him to shut up, the best of silence after that like water in a desert. It was beautiful. Why did it have to be so beautiful? And then it all shattered in one fell swoop. I don't remember the details, not much anymore. It's been a while you see, my memory jaded yet I still can piece together what happened. There was a shout of surprise, the sound cutting whatever image I had at the time. I whirled around, just as one of my comrades fell, a large arrow through his chest. I still wished I could run to him at the time, to comfort as he lay gurgling in his own blood. I swear I heard that last echo of his fading heartbeat, my heart stuttering as well. I should have stayed next to him. I should have held his hand before he had passed. But I had turned around, a bellowing shout tearing from my throat as more arrows arched overhead. The barrage was met with undesired effects, my shield taking the brunt of the attack. Yet still, even when I knew that this battle was just beginning, I wanted to still run my hands through the grass. This part made it hard for me to keep going, but I shall continue. It is part of the story is it not? I fought uphill, the people hidden under the stones nothing but dead flesh under my boots as I treaded further upward. I swung my sword, deadly metal against bows and that sweet abyss a final greeting to my enemies. But all I could see what red. So, so much red. It was a brand on my mind, my body, my soul, the longer this battle waged. My brethren fought beside me, all wanting the sweet taste of victory. I wanted to taste that too, to finally have all this end. I just wanted this damn war to end. And somehow, the Gods above seemed to respond. I remember that one arrow that I never saw coming. I remember the tip slicing through my skin, that red I knew so much springing forth. I remember the pain, the agony as I tried to pry the little thing from my body. But my blood proved slippery, as if trying to stop me from what I was doing. I just wanted the war to end. I fell, angry at such a small weapon. Yet it stayed, lodged in like a warrior trying to fight to the death. It hurt. Everything hurt but I could still hear my own rapid heartbeat in my ears. Feel warmth spill from mouth, a choked cry as well at the sight of my brethren fought on ahead. They had left me. Just like I had left the first fallen one. Somehow, it didn't hurt as much. Still fighting, I lay on my back to catch my ever shallowing breath. I didn't want to remember my heart slowing, or my eyes filling up with tears. Tears were weakness, and I was not weak. I was a warrior. I was what to be feared. I was not going to fall here, like some helpless whelp. I was... I was so tired. I knew I had died that day, all my anger and sadness manifesting into what I am. Of course I was still there, my body and throat never reaching my comrades. It made me so mad, so weak, so desperate. I could only watch, rooted like the grass. Maybe it was to be my prison. Maybe I just didn't want to see what had happened. My body rotted away, became one with time yet I did not care. The war was still there, the war was still going. I was scared that I had been forgotten, terrified of what memory of me was still there. I was so angry. The years though took what was left of my shattered soul, smoothing it down to almost nothing I was before. But if I concentrate long enough, I can feel a throb of that ever trapped inferno in my heart. I still had fight in me after all. I was a warrior. But now I sit, still waiting for this war to end. The grass has passed, grown anew, passed, and continues that cycle. I still try to get your attention, feeble as it seems. Can you tell me if the war has ended? I just want peace. I just want to know if I had fought for a good cause. But you do not hear me. For I am just an echo of the past still trapped in time. I'll repeat it as many times as I can so that I will remember. I just want the war to end. Care to listen to my tale?