Title: Didn't Want To
Author: Hedge
Rating: PG, 'cause someone dies and all.
Disclaimer: Mine! All mine!
Synopsis: The dying thoughts of a young man. This was done as an English assignment maybe a year ago.
Notes: Whew. Finally got around to revising this a little and posting it again.
I don't want to die.
Not that I am being given much of a choice in the matter, mind you. It was a stupid thing to do; challenging him like that, but I've always let my temper get the best of me. So, of course I had to challenge him right off when he insulted me and questioned the virtue of the young lady I was with.
He was better then me with a sword. I knew it then, and any doubt of it has been erased from my mind by now, as I lie here in my bed, dying. Funny, I used to think that I would do anything for honor, even die. Now I'm not so sure.
I remember it all so clearly, not that it is so surprising that I am able. The duel was only a quarter hour ago, or perhaps a little more. I remember the sound that his blade made against mine as it evaded my parry. I remember the feel of the cool steel as it cut into my gut cleanly, and the warmth of blood as my opponent removed his weapon and stepped away, allowing me to fall, my own weapon still clutched in one hand as the other went to cup the wound, unbelieving. I remember the moment of shock that kept me from feeling the pain immediately, and the horrible cry that the lady I was with gave. Ah, sweet lady, will you mourn for me when I'm gone? I know not. The sight of a dying man was too much for you, and you had to be taken away.
I close my eyes against another wave of pain, voice not even strong enough to cry out. It seems like such a waste to die, especially such a pointless death. I realize now what an impulsive thing it was. Father always told me not to fight meaningless battles, and to put my life above my pride. But he has been dead since fall, and soon I will join him. I wonder briefly what mother will do, with both of us gone and only the girls left. I wonder how my sister's will feel when they find out that their brother threw his life away on a rival's sword tip, and if my sweet lady will feel any guilt over the fact I died for an insult directed at her.
The pain passes, fading into nothingness, and I relax against the bed once again, unable to even turn my head and look at the room, which I know in empty. It won't be long now. The pain is completely gone, and the feeling of my body, of reality, is going with it. The already dim room is becoming darker, things turning dull, and blurred around the edges.
I hadn't wanted to die.
Author: Hedge
Rating: PG, 'cause someone dies and all.
Disclaimer: Mine! All mine!
Synopsis: The dying thoughts of a young man. This was done as an English assignment maybe a year ago.
Notes: Whew. Finally got around to revising this a little and posting it again.
I don't want to die.
Not that I am being given much of a choice in the matter, mind you. It was a stupid thing to do; challenging him like that, but I've always let my temper get the best of me. So, of course I had to challenge him right off when he insulted me and questioned the virtue of the young lady I was with.
He was better then me with a sword. I knew it then, and any doubt of it has been erased from my mind by now, as I lie here in my bed, dying. Funny, I used to think that I would do anything for honor, even die. Now I'm not so sure.
I remember it all so clearly, not that it is so surprising that I am able. The duel was only a quarter hour ago, or perhaps a little more. I remember the sound that his blade made against mine as it evaded my parry. I remember the feel of the cool steel as it cut into my gut cleanly, and the warmth of blood as my opponent removed his weapon and stepped away, allowing me to fall, my own weapon still clutched in one hand as the other went to cup the wound, unbelieving. I remember the moment of shock that kept me from feeling the pain immediately, and the horrible cry that the lady I was with gave. Ah, sweet lady, will you mourn for me when I'm gone? I know not. The sight of a dying man was too much for you, and you had to be taken away.
I close my eyes against another wave of pain, voice not even strong enough to cry out. It seems like such a waste to die, especially such a pointless death. I realize now what an impulsive thing it was. Father always told me not to fight meaningless battles, and to put my life above my pride. But he has been dead since fall, and soon I will join him. I wonder briefly what mother will do, with both of us gone and only the girls left. I wonder how my sister's will feel when they find out that their brother threw his life away on a rival's sword tip, and if my sweet lady will feel any guilt over the fact I died for an insult directed at her.
The pain passes, fading into nothingness, and I relax against the bed once again, unable to even turn my head and look at the room, which I know in empty. It won't be long now. The pain is completely gone, and the feeling of my body, of reality, is going with it. The already dim room is becoming darker, things turning dull, and blurred around the edges.
I hadn't wanted to die.