Fate

• Kaelan Flynn-jones, Grade 9
• Short Story
• 2013

The valley floor is blanketed in a thick and heavy fog, mountain peaks jutting out from the clouds both near and far. I stand vanguard amidst a sea of motionless bodies, each man silently anxious to see what lays beyond the wisp. A light breeze sweeps through the ranks of Samurai, causing hundreds of banners to swirl and flutter. Each banner emblazoned with the crest of a formidable samurai clan. I examine the nearest in earnest, seeking one of my companions. No, don't be foolish I watched them die right before my very eyes in our last bout against the shogun's samurai. I thought forlornly. I am surrounded by strangers.
The thundering bellow of a war horn from somewhere in the formation tears into my consciousness and I reluctantly turn my attention to the clouds of fog before us. A line of silhouetted figures slowly advance through the fog. Not before long, one figure bursts out of the wispy abyss, promptly followed by a score more. Each clad in armour fashioned to represent the monsters of our childhood stories, grotesque and frightening they made for an unnerving sight.
The group marches forward briefly before halting a few hundred metres from where I stand. The foremost individual raises a small horn to a gap in his helmet for his lips and blows. The rumble that it produces echoes throughout the valley, the sound bouncing off the mountains. I scan my surroundings nervously, expecting more enemies to charge through the mist at any moment but none appear. Minutes pass and still nothing happens. A few of the men around me begin to laugh and soon the laughter sweeps through the ranks like a plague and before long every one of us is roaring with laughter at the audacity of this meagre group.
The twenty-one warriors remain, still standing in mute formation. The foremost, once again, brings his horn to his lips and blows thrice. The laughter slowly dies, as thousands of shadows emerge from the fog. Many of the silhouettes bring horns to their lips, soon the mountainsides tremble with the immense cacophony of the nightmarish orchestra. A lump forms in my throat and tears stream down my cheeks as I finally recognise my fate.