The Thousandth Strike to Create my Legacy_The Reapers_The Tragedy of Ishmael_DESTINY
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The Thousandth Strike to Create my Legacy
Nine-hundred and ninety-nine different shades of blood stretched down my sword as I fastened the armor around my chest. Off to my side, the other gladiators gazed at me with expressions of fear and awe. Out of the forty men who’d entered the arena today, only twenty of us remained, ten on each side. One of the unfortunate souls on the other end would be my opponent, and with Mars’s blessing, his fate would be the same as the others. One more body beneath me, and I’d finally be high enough to create my legacy. The door swung open, and a cool breeze flooded around us. A name was called, and sile...
The Reapers
He had finally managed to capture her. He slumped against the stony wall in this forgotten cave catching his breath as her voice carried with the echo.A small wooden ship sinks about a hundred meters from the shore. Half of it is on fire. The sun sets in gold in front of them. When the ball of light hits the horizon, it spreads like oil in water. Below, the depleted men clad in armor slowly start to creep onto the shore. Their steel boots sinking into the wet sand like anchors. “Quiet, Luna…” he whispered. “They’ll hear you.”“That’s the point,” she said through gritted teeth.When she opened he...
The Tragedy of Ishmael
Call me, Ishmael. Some years ago, I lost my left arm in a major car accident. The doctor said that my arm was seriously injured and they needed to cut it off or else... I didn't want to hear it, so I just ignored it. Since then, I have never felt happy again. Whenever I touch my wound, I can't stop thinking about it. The indescribable pain, I'll never forget it. Most people that get into a car accident usually lose their sanity, but not me. Right after I was hit by a car, I realized something. I don't know if it was because of the chaos around me or the fact that I might not have been able to...www.onedoor.cc
DESTINY
January 1st and find myself in the creature's infinite tomb of a gut. I haven't the slightest inkling of how I've based myself here. All I remember is holding the treasure in my hand and observing the testimony of existence. That starry and fiery treasure that took me under an infernal influence. I haven't come to terms with how I am documenting my narrative but I am confident it is being documented. I cannot see so even if I bear my journal it is worthless down here. My audio recorder is shot and dead, it took a scattering of bullets from my mate Lyonell. God rest his soul and rest of the po...