Old Friends And New Ones

• Taylor Jackson, Grade 11
• Short Story
• 2020

I watched in desolated silence as a figure dressed in black capes strided over to me. Our gazes met for a split second without remorse or hatred but simply purity. The purity of those of the weak and those of the ones of had fallen before us, my sword was drawn steadily, gripping the leather handle with ferocity that did not seem to show itself underneath the hidden layers of emotions I held for a fallen comrade that lay in this dark empty shell like battlefield of dead bodies.
It had happened all too quickly for me to comprehend, but all I did know that this was not the end or not even the beginning but perhaps a timeline of a new era.
I scoffed at the thought mindlessly and shrugged it off, relieving myself from yet another onslaught of undisturbed thoughts. The man in front seemed to notice this, his sharp green eyes were like blades.
Though I could never draw my attentiveness to see it but somehow I knew he see right through me. Even with the bustling of the wind brushing sand across the air, mile high. The sun above us dawned upon us and beads of sweat started to appear on both of our features then he spoke and removed a clad like black mask and said “Come, there is much to do and the past separates us from the lives we live now.”
Despite his words I knew this true, but I couldn’t let Arron suffer alone in a broken wasteland like this. I turned to look back at a man with blond bob cut hair and messy bangs whom was dressed in a brown mud tunic made from the finest leather in our land or what used to be our land.
Our home had long been forgotten almost forged from my memory like an iron brand carefully removing a splinter of steel from the burning pit of coals and fire.
Tears welled up in my eyes as I glanced at the patch of blood that bedded itself just above his chest. I remember how he died like how any dead man would not forget his death before the void, he had a large rounded face with brown honey eyes and a small stout nose. Almost the face of a child and yet he was to me.
However now that he had passed he looked older and I felt with each draining second of every lifeless day that was ahead I was nearer to mine than I anticipated once before.
“The dead are with the dead and there the void grants him safe passage. Your comrade will be fine, now come.” He spoke clear and announced his words gradually softly as though he had seen this all too many times or perhaps experienced it too many times. I swung my head around to look at him my eyes burning with a curiosity like the which of those this man hadn’t seen before.