About Me

A Rude Awakening

I don't know how long I slept, for I found myself doubting my wakefulness. But as I did open my eyes, I saw a strange and horrific thing before me. It stared at me with gleaming, blood filled eyes, as a starving man stared at a morsel of offered food. Indeed, it did seem desperate, almost pitiful, and I did pity it. Until I discovered, in my continuing waking, that I was no longer leaning against my comfortable tree, wrapped in my comfortable furs, huddled with my few belongings. I looked about me in a frenzy, finding that I was in the beast's grasp. A large and fierce grasp! It's hand encompassed my torso fully, much as a child's doll would fit in my own hand. It's body was lank and disgustingly thin. I saw the play of bone, muscle, sinew, and tendon beneath the thin leathery skin. It had a green complexion, but was obviously pale and gaunt. I suddenly realized my plight, when a rush of energy overtook me. I reached for Arabeth, my sword, where I had left it and then remembered that I was no longer where I left myself! I managed a grasp at a dead tree branch as I traveled toward the ugly creature's gaping maw, in an attempt to pull (myself free of the terrible grasp. The branch broke loose in my hands, and I discovered I was suddenly with weapon again! I swung blindly in front of me with as much force as I could muster in my disoriented state. I then felt a jarring at my back. Opening my eyes to look at what hit me, I turned my head to find a wet and cold feeling in my ear. Snow! I was on the ground again, and laying next to Arabeth. I grasped the hilt, rolled left, and sprang to my feet with as much grace as a wounded fish flailing on the shore. As it was, I was still tired, and now I was in mortal jeopardy, but at least I was armed now and I had a fighting chance. I looked up at my adversary, who was not only reeling from the pain of a bleeding eye and crushed snout, but was now angry. I was looking up; definitely up. The thing before me, now erect, was fully double my size. My new found resolve and courage (found with the blade in my numb hands), was starting to wane. This thing was definitely big, and angry,... and big. It charged, raking blindly with it's free hand.		I stepped back and swung up with the practiced reflexes of my forefathers. This time I found the courage to keep my eyes open and on target, or perhaps it was that I decided if I was going to die, it was going to be with at least the posture of courage. In any case, the blade found it's home in the beast's forearm. I dragged it out swiftly with a slight twist, and felt the warm blood trickle onto my hands and spurt on 2iy face. It's wet touch burned my bare skin slightly, but only enough to sting. The monster stumbled back and tripped on a root jutting up out of the snow. As it fell back, I took the opening its clumsiness afforded me. I leaped onto its chest and plunged my blade deep into it's heart. As the blade passed through its skin, and on into its sternum, it grasped me firmly, but not as if to harm me. It turned me to look into its face, almost pleadingly. I found myself feeling pity - feeling almost sorry for the thing. As life left the beast's eyes, I felt a certain regret. As though I was able to sympathize with the creature. I started to realize that it was scared. It did not fear me, but it felt life slipping from it and that fact scared him. He looked at me with a pleading, sorrowful look: the look I've only ever noticed on the faces of my friends and kinsmen when they died on the field. I then fell on his chest as he expired and I suddenly realized that the look I had only ever noticed on the faces of those I held dear to me was in fact on the face of every enemy that had fallen by my own hand.