“A Tormenting Game”

Silence alone echoed through the air even though the wisps of a strong wind blew about the decaying brush that made up the dense forest floor. Although the forest was teeming with life, in this dark corner, on this desolate night, one young man lays fighting a desperate battle. This story begins on this dark hour many years before the final date. Here lays the remainder of what had never been and was never known to be a man. A young boy of a large family he was the runt of the litter. Always smaller then the rest, including his many brothers, it was hard from the beginning.Where were his big brothers now?
They all ran, cowards..
Here he laid, a deep wound gushing blood over his hands that had long gone cold. Often Lark had thought what death would be like; what the moment before held for him. The white hot blinding pain sent starbursts and flashes through his faded vision. This moment before death was not a glorious rendition of his life, it was not a flash of all his happy memories, beautiful moments, loved ones, but Lark was not surprised; for he had none of these now in his final breaths or the painstaking days that were his life. Feeling sorry for himself, even in death, he chuckled a blood fletched cough for the irony of the joke that was his life. He was better off dead. If only for his mother the only one who cared for him, loved him, but even that faded, even she found another in the daughter she always wanted, the baby he was.
Darkness blanketed his world once more; once more he began to hear the words. Now he recognized the words, the voice, this all happened before but he couldn’t remember when, it wasn’t important. There was no more pain, black had completely flooded his vision and all he could hear was the voice. The words gave him the feeling as if they were stars forever out of reach to him yet they were spoken by someone who held no joy in teasing; only loving bliss garnished the soft whispered words:

“Strive for the forever mists great warrior, here is your home.”