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Fiction » Fantasy » Untitled font: B s : A A A . width: full 3/4 1/2
Author: Sam Hines
Fiction Rated: K+ - English - Tragedy/Humor - Published: 03-10-08 - Updated: 03-10-08 - Complete - id:2486956

The battles were over. We’d won. We’d finally won. The pain, the sorrow, it was over. But I couldn’t help but be overcome with sadness. I’d lost so many friends, so many allies. Was it truly worth their loss? Never again would we smile together, laugh together, cry together. Did they really need to die? Tears slowly stream down my face as I remember. I remember their last moments.

I remember her. So gifted a fighter. She was ruthless in battle. No one could stand a chance to her in melee combat. As I fought my own enemies, I could hear her battle cries. But then they were silent. I saw her fall, struck down by an arrow, a look of surprise on her face. She never saw it flying toward her. I called out her name, but she was too far to hear my words. I miss her

I remember him. He was so hopeful for the future; that was why he journeyed with us. He wanted the world to be peaceful, for his family. And he never killed when he didn’t have to. He always sought out the peaceful solution. He was a master at the healing arts. Come to think of it, he only killed once. The guilt plagued him for days. Then he was brought down. He was so innocent, so easily deceived. Our nemesis had sent assassins. They were gifted in the black arts and stole him from us. They used his body as shield and we dared not strike it. In the end, we had no choice. His soul was lost to us; the guilt was used to seal it away. I had to do it. I struck him down with my own blade. I wept and silently begged him for forgiveness. We killed the assassins shortly after. I held him in my arms as he passed to the next life. I whispered a promise that I’d take care of his family, make the world safe for them. I miss him.

As I remember my fallen comrades, I wonder if it truly was worth their loss. Was the entire world worth the lives of a few brave fighters? Was it truly? My brother walks over to me and I cling to him, staining his shirt with my tears. He looks over my shoulder. “Sis, calm down. You’re overreacting.”
“No I’m not,” I say to him pointing at the television screen flashing the words Game Over The End. “I always act this way with really good RPG’s.”



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