Where Courage Fails

Leaves fall around me in a breeze as I tighten my grip on my sword. Before me stands a large, tall creature with grey skin, a human-like appearance, skinny, and covered with the blood of my friends. My body is shaking, weakening my grip. My breathing is getting harder. It stares into my eyes, and I stare into its. Don’t give up. You can’t give up.

It shrieks and starts charging at me. My body is screaming to run, and my mind agrees. I run into a darkening forest filled with dry, dying trees. My heart feels like it’s about to explode as the footsteps get louder. Please run, don’t give up, I tell my body, but it’s weakening with each step. I can’t run; I can’t fight it. My body is refusing to move any further.

I hear a shriek as the footsteps become quiet. Waves of weakness swim across my body. My legs are exhausted after a short run. I turn around. There’s a dull grey face in front of my face. It’s so human and yet so wild. My legs lose the struggle and bend, forcing me to my knees.

With its bony hands, it slowly aims for my neck. My grip tightens. I strike its hands with the sword. Hard as iron, it does nothing but hiss. I stand up, preparing for a pointless fight. Its hand strikes me, and I’m flying through the air, hitting the ground.

It’s pointless.

Lying on my back, I look up. It reaches for my head, gripping it and lifting me into the air. In front of its face, staring into its eyes closely.

“Please.”

Liquid runs to the ground from my face. It shrieks, and warm liquid escapes from my belly. My body refuses my commands.

“Please,” I say before my eyes shut against my will.