Author's Note: I know, I know, it has been awhile since I have posted something, but I promise that I shall have something solid for you very soon. In the meantime, here is a little something I wrote, and I would like to hear critcism on it (i.e., what do you think, what should I change, where do you think I am going with it or should go with it, etc.). Now, let me set the scene:
Two figures sit alone in a gloomy cell, the one old and stooped, the other young with eyes full of fire. Both are riddled with scars and their clothes are in shambles. The girl speaks first...

"They've taken everything; my dignity, my family, my identity, everything."
"But they haven't taken your life."
"No, but they have taken my spirit, and that is worse."
"No one can take your spirit, even if they slay you. They can break your spirit, crush it beyond recognition, but they cannot take it."
A bitter laugh. "And what, may I ask, is the difference?"
"If they did not take your spirit, you still control it, and it will heal."
"And when it does they will break it again."
"If you let them."
Angrily, "What choice do I have?"
"When a broken bone heals, it becomes stronger than it was before it was broken. The same is true of a spirit. The more they break it, the stronger it becomes."
A pause. "How strong will it become?"
"As strong as you make it."
"What happens when they can no longer break my spirit?"
"Either they will kill you, or you will kill them."
A laugh. "I am a slave. I have not seen the light of day for years. I am lucky to eat one meal a week, I wear rags, and you say that I can kill them?"
A nod.
"Now I know you are mad."
"I am not mad. I have seen people like you before, but they also refused what was offered them and condemned another generation to slavery."
"I know I shall regret saying this, but explain yourself."
"There are others like you. Others who could harden their spirits and free us, but they would rather keep their lives and let those around them suffer than accept the curse."
"Curse, blessing, it depends on your interpretation."
"What am I interpreting?"
"You are descended from a great race, a race that is nearly extinct but for a few slaves here in the caves. Your race was given a double-edged gift. They were constantly oppressed, and should they allow their spirits to become hard, they would become unstoppable warriors. However, once their spirits were hardened, they could not be softened again. They would know no feelings, they would only know how to fight and kill; but they could not be defeated."
Silence. "If my spirit were hardened, I could free us from this place."
A nod.
"And I would know nothing but battle for the rest of my life."
Another nod.
"No wonder the others declined."
"Yes, but do not think just of yourself. You are not the only slave in these caverns, nor are you the youngest. You know the rules, as soon as you can walk, you work. Are you willing to condemn the others to slavery because you are not willing to make a sacrifice?"
"It is not a small sacrifice."
"I am well aware of that."
Squinting through the gloom, the grimness of the other's face was readily apparent. "You have seen this before."
A nod. "I was abandoned as a child, and your people took me in. When the barbarians came, they did not fight. They feared what they would become, and dared not fight. And so I became a slave."
"You referred to them as a great race."
"Why wouldn't I?"
"Their cowardice made you a slave."
"And it was their kindness that kept me alive."
Silence. "I do not know how to fight."
"You will."

I know it's a little sketchy, but what did you think? I have more bits of scenes that I could post, if you wish. They take place later in the story, but you would be able to catch on to what had happened. **holds out plate of cookies** Here, have a cookie. Thank you for reading, and please review!