Post by Savage on Jun 1, 2007 10:58:05 GMT -5
With every slow raspy faint breath he drew the life in him slipped a little farther away. Little bubbles of air formed in the pool of blood as it escaped the gnarled flesh that used to be his handsome boyish face. The blood matted his hair as it lay against the bone of his naked skull. His battered head lay half way beneath the surface of the pool of his own blood. He wondered if he would bleed to death or drown as the pool slowly rose. Reflexively he tried to open his eyes to seek a means of salvation but his eyelid hung motionlessly from a tiny thread of flesh blocking his sight. Instinctively he tried to wipe the obstruction of his view away with his hand but he could not. The pain from the leather straps binding his wrists behind his back reminded him of the bonds. He was not dead but he knew that if the bleeding was not stopped he would be soon so he tried to call out for help but his throat was shredded and his vocal cords useless.
The pain was excruciating but in his mind he knew that feeling pain meant being alive and he found reason to be thankful for it. He felt his life draining slowly from him and the worse part of the death he soon faced was not the end of his life but the helplessness he felt. He had been too weak to stop what had happened to him. He was even now too weak and unable to stop death from coming to him. Helplessness and weakness, where feelings that he had come to loath during his servitude. They tried to teach him that he was helpless and must at all times heed their bidding. The slave masters tried to teach him that he was weak and would survive only by yielding to their rule. Instead he learned that a man might rule only so much as he has the strength to do so. They taught him that no man is helpless if he has the courage, strength and will power to make his world what he wanted it to be.
As the life slowly seeped out of his body and the end crept ever closer he clung to life. He struggled to live. He refused to allow himself to slip in to the peaceful darkness. He would not let go. The darkness beaconed him home but he defied even it thinking that not as long as his sister was still alive would he give up. She needed him. He was all she had left. He would not relent because there was fire within sustaining him. A fire that burned on hate and hate alone. Pain shot through him as he was lifted from the ground and yet more pain as cloth bandages wrapped slowly around him. Someone had come to his aid but he could not tell who for his vision was obscured and his ears had been shredded cleanly from his head during the lashings. Thinking now that someone tended his wounds he could relax and let unconsciousness come over him.
The pain was excruciating but in his mind he knew that feeling pain meant being alive and he found reason to be thankful for it. He felt his life draining slowly from him and the worse part of the death he soon faced was not the end of his life but the helplessness he felt. He had been too weak to stop what had happened to him. He was even now too weak and unable to stop death from coming to him. Helplessness and weakness, where feelings that he had come to loath during his servitude. They tried to teach him that he was helpless and must at all times heed their bidding. The slave masters tried to teach him that he was weak and would survive only by yielding to their rule. Instead he learned that a man might rule only so much as he has the strength to do so. They taught him that no man is helpless if he has the courage, strength and will power to make his world what he wanted it to be.
As the life slowly seeped out of his body and the end crept ever closer he clung to life. He struggled to live. He refused to allow himself to slip in to the peaceful darkness. He would not let go. The darkness beaconed him home but he defied even it thinking that not as long as his sister was still alive would he give up. She needed him. He was all she had left. He would not relent because there was fire within sustaining him. A fire that burned on hate and hate alone. Pain shot through him as he was lifted from the ground and yet more pain as cloth bandages wrapped slowly around him. Someone had come to his aid but he could not tell who for his vision was obscured and his ears had been shredded cleanly from his head during the lashings. Thinking now that someone tended his wounds he could relax and let unconsciousness come over him.