<Gonna do this on my own...>

Monday, August 22, 2005

My adversary lied on the floor, his sword away from his blood-filled hand...
"What now?," I questioned myself, my shrouded mind, my exhausted body...
My sword was battered. It was no longer a mastersmith's blade when it came out freshly from the furnace. It was a sword that had plunged and rose out of hell that deathmatches brought...

The rain continued to pour and pour... The heavens fought for dominance of the sky as thunder rumbled deafeningly and lightning sparked blindingly...

With short gasps of breath, he tried to stand up...
I didnt move..
Both of us knew the outcome of the battle...
There was either victory, or defeat. There wasnt such a thing as a stalemate...

I threw my weapon down.

I wonder if that was a good or lousy attempt at fantasy writing.