Short Stories

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The troops are matching down the hill called 'The Skull' . The sound of their approach loud and threatening. They are matching down from the hill where each had gone to slay himself .
The shouts of the commanders can be heard high above the din. They match towards a city dead and rotten, where evil peers through closed windows and is heard in the owl’s call.
Those on the frontline are fiery and arrayed in shining armor. They match toward the city dead and rotten. The Calvary men bear white banners emblazoned with red crosses: the crimson paint drawn from the veins of a King who died but now lives eternally.On their visage a look so terrible with determination as they match on.
I stand on the corner of the street waiting for this sight to reach ,this sight so strange, so divine. I wait for judgment on the one thousand wicked things I see daily, and in the dungeons below the earth the prisoners wait for their salvation: the release of those quarter to die and those half past life.
These must be the bringers of life and change. I run quickly to my neighbors and exclaim,
‘lets join this army!’. I point towards the horizon,
‘they are coming and a light comes with them, so bright and piercing.’ we will match with them and reach the darkest part of the city, we will fight till the sun goes down or is made still. We will win as the ancient book predicts and we too will see the King who died but now lives eternally.

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