Kaleb The Slave - Story

Once there was a prophet and he walked the land far and wide during times of strife. His name was Kaleb and he was the hunter for escape. He wanted to forget his past, his present, and the world around him, but forgetting was not easy. Where Kaleb walked war was immenent and he was forced to defend himself with his mighty sword. Kaleb was a fine fighter but there were those who challenged him and in the end he was forced into servitude with the foreign army of Labradore.

Kaleb hated army work as it was hard and used his energy and thought. However if Kaleb did not do his ducty he was punished with whips, cuts, and burns. Once Kaleb would not fight a royal who had posed as peasant and his toe-nails were burned until he had none. Kaleb was scorned for his inability to just fight with the army and defeat the world, but when Kaleb did pick up his sword to fight there was only praise.

Kaleb was one of the best fighters only Markus and Timbol challenged him. They were front line fencers when the army needed strength and they held more then just scratches - their skins had been stained red from having had hacked so many men! Kaleb felt indone when in argument with the royal patriots and at nightfall he would even cry as he swore that he would one day break away from the army to be able to live the clean and free life once again.

However breaking away took years. The army didn't stop at one village it walked on, and on, then it backed into the land it had defeated to defeat the rebels, and then they would continue. It was an endless war and battle and in the end Kaleb wanted to scream!

One night Kaleb was invited to a meal by Gertrude the royal leader's daughter. She sat on a throne made of wood and she smiled as she looked to Kaleb who was fit, strong, and had the body of an immortal. Gertrude invited Kaleb to a seat and he sat as a dog would have sat under their owners command. Kaleb looked at Gertrude and thought her wonderful, however his heart was not lenient and he only grew disgusted as he was forced to endure her presence.

“Kaleb the great warrior;” teased Gertrude with a smile. “You are great;” she added. “Your reputation says so;” she told.

“Thankyou;” told Kaleb unable to break his jaw from its concrete mould.

“I have a task for you;” announced Gertrude unable to shake the shivers that raced under her skin from having had heard the rough tone in Kaleb's voice. “You are to choose a meal fit for your liking;” she added before she raised a hand for the nearby men to bring forth the plates of gold, silver, and earth.

The men brought forth three plates and their laid them down in front of Kaleb. Kabel wanted to groan at sight of the plates, however his fingers already wanted the gold that laid to the right of his right hand.

“The righteous plate;” told Kaleb inside of his mind as Gertrude looked on.

However something inside of Kaleb warned him that gold was the embled of all things good and evil and so Kaleb paused.

“Is there a purpose to this task?” he asked. “Am I supposed to hand pick what is good, evil, made from foreign source;” he questioned.

“Just choose which one you would like and eat it;” told Gertrude as she smiled to herself.

“Then I choose the gold plate!” gasped Kaleb before he picked up the plate and began to consume the meal.

The meal was good, more then good, it was made of all things holy and delicious at the same time. There was nothing immoral on the plate, no beast had been slaughtered, it was just good food and Kaleb enjoyed it to the brim.

“Why you chose the gold plate!” gasped Gertrude as she smiled. “That meal was made for me;” she added.

“I thank you for allowing me to taste a royal meal;” told Kaleb as he licked at his teeth. “It was good, very good;” he added.

“Then you shall have such a meal every day!” gasped Gertrude in a tone a little hysterical.

Kaleb knew then and there that he had crossed a line that had altered Gertrude's royal psych and he became weary. However he didn't want to just bow his head, he wanted to walk away. However Gertrude stopped Kaleb with her next remark.

“Eat the other two meals and go back to your tent;” she ordered as though she were thoroughly bored.

Kaleb nodded and ate the silver platter whose every meal had been made from slaughtered beast, and then he ate the earthen platter whose dish was a soup made of barley, wheat, and rye. Kaleb ate all and by its end he felt as though he were filled with the strength of three men. Gertrude smiled a little as she looked at Kaleb, she knew suddenly he had been starved as his looked brightened and turned into what a king would call his son's holy image. Gertrude laughted and then she told the nearby men to escort Kaleb to his tent. Kaleb was escorted and when there he was beaten until the three meals he had eaten laid in a pool of vomit on his floor.

“A royal meal of any meal is unfit for your belly!” one of the men jeered before he fled.

Kaleb sighed as he gasped through a world of pain. He had been used as a tool in a wicked game and he did not like it at all.

That night Kaleb picked up his sword and escaped. He raced out of the tent to the rocky hills which were too steep for the horses to pass over. Kaleb darted fast to its face and began to climb. No royal army had seen him and so he clumbed alone until his eyes spied a cave. Kaleb wandered inside of the mouth og the cave and met bats, spiders, and small hungry beasts; however none were able to do anything but scurry away as soon as Kaleb had shown them his sword. So Kaleb was allowed to wander deepers, and deeper, inside of the cave and he walked far. However when he reached the other side he met Markus andTimbol who had journeyed around the mountain to re-capture their lost fugitive and they greeted Kaleb with several punches untilhe was too weak to move.

Kaleb was taken back to the army who had moved on a fair way since his departure. Back in camp he was forced to meet Gertrude who spat on his face before she witnessed the burning of his skin with the mark of the slave. Kaleb was no longer able to break away to eescape, he had been ,marked as a man to be captured or slaughtered on sight.

From that day on Kaleb became slave to the army and was easier to handle. He no longer complained, not even when half of the army entered his tent to beat him before he was able to sleep. Kaleb stayed good and true to his army duty with the mark of a slave on his arms and back. He was unable to erase the marks and his blood burned, however his mind stayed cool; he had at last been forced into subdue and he remained good.

After many months of fighting the army was forced to settle to create a kingdom. They chose Erosia as it had the greenest of land, and the cleanest of water. Erosia provided the royal army a good home, however at times rebels broke their walls to try and destroy them and the army was forced to defend until the grass grew grey from the blood that had been spilled on it.

“The ground is dying;” told Markus as he looked at the grass that had turned into weed. “We shall have to move;” he told;

“Nonsence!” cried Timbol. “We have only just finished these walls;” he objected.

“Then I will move;” told Markus. “I don't like the look of the land, it is sick;” he told.

“I will gladly move with you;” told Kaleb who had listened from the near distance.

“Strong Kaleb! I salute you;” cried out Markus. “I shall like your arm very much, but you must be my friend and not my enemy!” he stated.

“I shall be your friend;” told Kaleb as he tried his best to smile.

Markus shrugged.

“Very well you come;” he told. “I am going to move west;' he stated to Timbol.

“I shall tell the royals;” muttered Timbol before he ran to the royal quarters to tell all who was able to listen that Markus was going to leave.

Markus left that night and he walked with Kaleb and two of his army friends. They wandered for a day to the next village and when there they helped themselves to a meal at the town bar. The bar-man wanted to poison the royal army however he knew better. He looked at Markus and knew he was able to see poison a mile away and so he fed the group clean food and asked not a penny for it.

Markus looked at the bar and saw what could be a slave market, and he spotted some fellow women who he wanted to play around with. However his blood was not excited enough to asked the barman for a room and so he lounged as the village people talked around their shoulders in whispers.

“It is a good day to leave;” told Markus at last after several hours. “My bones are in ache for a horse ride” he added. “A fast one;”

The two army friends Edem and Edwarz cheered and the group left. However outside Markus blocked the entrance door with a barrel of beer, and told Kaleb to do the sameat the back door. When the doors were blocked Markus ground a stick against the wood of the entrance door and rubbed until it caught on fire. Soon the whole building had smoke all over it, and it flamed as screams cried out from inside. Markus watched as the fire climbed high, and then he smiled as the screams finally died. Kaleb looked to Markus and wanted to call him evil, however he knew he could not and so he turned his head to the fire and watched it until the sky grwe black.

Within days the small cluster of royal arm found a new village and setted themselves there. They ordered who was allowed to live to and fro and were given all they coud desire. Then Markus told the village that they were going to build him a home, and so the craftsment began to build a construction that was a mansion among village huts. Markus paid the craftsmen with gold he carried inside of his pocket, and then he settled inside of his mansion with his friends and Kaleb.

When settled the cluster began to talk and soon they began to create books to spread the word of faith, knowledge, and history. The villagers passed the book around, and soon it was declared that a new kingdom had been made.

Kaleb wandered around the village every day. All seemed at peace but inside of the houses Markus and his friends tortured the villagers. They taunted them with threats, they ordered them to give them more, they tried to tell them what to do and when met with disdain a man or woman was fast slaughtered. Kaleb could take no more of the violence and so he walked around in an attempt to try and stay apart from the feud of the royal army gone mad.

When walking around the village Kaleb met Olyve a village girl who had escaped blood-shed by a hairs length after her own sister Arabelle had tackled Markus in an attempt to spare her ife. Markus had hit his face on a table and turned red as fire - in his fury he tore Arrabelle's head from its neck until even the air screamed that he had killed! Olyve had raced away as Markus ordered for her sisters body to be stewed, and with the smell of human meat on the cook Olyve had found her way to the grass where her knees had turned into water.

“Hello;” muttered Kaleb as he smiled at Olyve.

“Hello;” replied Olyve with a well-set tremmor in her tone.

“A fine day;” told Kaleb as he began to enjoy the scenery.

“My sister was killed today;” told Olyve before she began to weep inside of her head.

Kaleb saw only black in the world as he looked at Olyve and he knew that she was fresh in despair. However a cry from Markus broke Kaleb's attention and soon Markus circled around Olyve as he held a dagger inside of his hand.

“Your sister's meat is on the stew, I thought you would like to join her!” he hissed as he felt a bead of blood dribble off his chin.

“Why are you cooking human meat!” cried Kaleb started.

“It is what we do when upset!” raged Markus unable to keep his temper. “I was about to kill this one when her sister had tackled me to the floor!” he barked. “The insult;” he added. “She only won because I was off my guard;” he declared.before he leaned over Olyve to slice off her right ear.

“Can you leave this one alone?” asked Kaleb as his heart began to wince. “I was talking to her;” he added.

“Two rescues in one day?” asked Markus as he glared at Kaleb. “Why the mercy?” he asked.

“I lost my heart to her;” told Kaleb as he began to show some strain.

“Poor heart;” told Markus as he glared at Kaleb as he tried to assess whether his temper would break out of he slit the pesants' throat. “Choose another;” he then muttered as he glared at Kaleb. “Any other;” he added.

“I choose her;” told Kaleb as he began to sweat.

“Well she is fit for the pot, choose another;” muttered Markus as he eyed Kaleb up and down.

“I choose her;” told Kaleb as he began to strain.

“Any other!” gasped Markus before he grew fury himself and slit Olyve's throat so dreastically Kaleb fell down onto his knees at sight of so much blood. “Any other!” raged Markus before he picked Olyve up and carried her back into her home for the boil.

That night human meat was tasted and Kaleb was unable to cope. He threw a fit of rage and killed more then half the village and then he destroyed the mansion with his own arm before he ran away. Markus only just survived a battle with Kaleb before he fled and his sword had broken in half, it was only his dagger that had saved him as he threw it at Kaleb's face enough to pierce his eye.

Kaleb walked away with blood on his face and he wandered far. He dissapeared and when amongst strange dark villages he asked for food and water and was given only poisoned ale until he fell to the ground almost dead.

However Kaleb was not dead, and so he was picked up and passed into a trade vehicle which carried him to the black market where he was sold into slavery. Kaleb's skin was sick and poorly and he needed to be given good food more one month before he was fit to work again. However when fit he managed to fight and break away from his slave-home, and when he felt it was with ransom on his face.

Kaleb wandered far and was given no hope to live, and so he walked further until he found a stream to suckle on. The water could only feed him so much before he began to feel weak.

“I'll drown myself in water one day;” told Kaleb before the light from a farmhouse brought him luck.

Kaleb knocked on the door and let himself inside when a woman opened the latch. Inside Kaleb began to eat fruit and bread and the woman watched from the distance as her children slept inside of their beds. The woman wanted to run away however she grew less scared when she realized that Kaleb wanted food more then anything else.

“You are a poor man?” asked the woman as she gulped on her breath.

“Yes;” told Kaleb before he began to eat more fruit. “I do not eat meat;” he added.

“We have none;” told the woman as she glared at Kaleb with curiosity.

A silence lingered as Kaleb continued to eat. The woman wanted to know more about him but his slave marks told her his life. He had been condemned to a legion and when escaped he should have been slaughtered on sight. However he didn't not wish to kill Kaleb, and so she watched and waited for him to leave.

“Do you have a bed?” asked Kaleb all of a sudden. “I would like to sleep;” he added.

“There is only one bed;” told the woman as she began to grow some tense. “It is my husbands bed and he is far away;” she added.

“I shall use it for one day and night;” told Kaleb. “Show me to the bed;” he ordered.

The woman knew better then to try and coax Kaleb in another direction, and so she showed him to the bed, and when there he fell on it and slept. The woman was startled at how tired Kaleb was, and she left him alone.

True to his work Kaleb left after a night and a day, and when gone the woman was visited by a traveller and she told him that a stranger had stayed in her home. The traveller nodded and heded off - he was not to discover Kaleb untl six months later when he was being trialled for treason.

Kaleb walked far and at every village he became ever more welcomed as word was spread that a wadering slave was on the march for food and a brief stay. Kaleb grew more liked and at some houses he was oftered clothes, baths, and even money. Kaleb accepted more and became stronger and encouraged that he was on the righteous path. However he could only escape for so long, at oen village the royal army was already settled and he met Markus once again after he knocked on a door.

“Hello;” cheered Markus as he grinned. “Looking for food and board are we?” he asked.

Kaleb wanted to run however his feet were made of lead as Markus pointed a sword at his chest.

Come in;” told Markus as he stepped to the side. “Or I shall chase you;” he added.

Kaleb walked inside of the home and found a small family who had been ordered to act under Markus's orders. They had washed every room from top to bottom, spent their money on candles, and had cooked vegetables and meat for Markus's belly. They were in disdain for their new lord, however their quiet smiles failed to show the scorn inside of their minds.

“My friend would like dinner!” cried Markus. “Made from the scraps of what I eat;” he added before he showed Kaleb to a table.

The family nodded and make Kaleb a stew made from the skin of the animals they had skin, and from their raw and bloody bones. Kaleb at the stew and grew warm before Markus picked up a pot and banged it on the back of his head so hard his eyes turned black.

When Kaleb woke he was in a cell and there were royal army men on the taunt.

“You are going to your death;” they declared.

Kaleb didn't even want to ask why, he knew he had turned against the royal army for freedom that was shortlived and he was yet to pay.

Kaleb spent two days in a cell and then he was beaten for two more days. When bruised from top to toe he was led out onto a market stage and chained tightly to a plank of wood and skinned alive. Cried and shouts echoed through the village as red blood ran down the sewer drains. At the end of the skinning Kaleb was lit of fire and red smoke filled the sky as men and women fainted in the street. Markus glared at the attrocity and shook his head.

“You could have lived forever!” he shouted to the wind that slapped hard against his face. “It's a shame that you could not turn into anything but a slave wishing for freedom rather then a man wishing for blood;” he added before he walked away.

Chasing After Love - Story

Hans was the mighty warrior who traveled far in order to make the world his own. At times he stopped by villages and he set them on fire and slaughtered a great many of the men and women with a sword made of fire. He was very much hated in lands near and far by the enemies who were able to dive into caves to hide - however Hans did not mind the thoughts, he knew he only wanted the world.

One day Hans stopped by a local river in order to take a drink. There he met a beautiful woman named Averelle. She was a local farmers daughter who had gone to the forest in order to collect some much needed herbs to make medicine. Hans thought she was very beautiful indeed and he even picked a flower from the ground to give to Averelle - however she grew frightened as soon as she saw Hans as she had heard the tales that he was a very feriocious killer, and she fast ran away.

“Where are you going?” asked Hans, however only the wind was able whisper to him and it did not speak English.

Hans listened to the silence more then the wind as a sadness crept inside of his heart - he had never felt such a thing as love, and he knew that he must take on the hunt for Averelle.

So Hans travelled in the same direction as Averelle had fled. He journeyed on a horse and his horse swept through the forest like a hare. However even his horse was no match for Averelle who had the gift for running and could out-race any animal. Hans however managed to keep on the right trail and soon he reached the gates of the farm.

However there was something strange that made his horse stop in an abrupt manner. Hans knew there was an evil somewhere close by and he felt the handle of his sword with fingers on the steam; it took a moment for the evil to uncover itself.

A lord named Boccus steamed out from the forest with his horses heels on fire. He swept to the farm gates and jumped over its fence-line. Hans frowned as Boccus used the heels of his horses feet to slam open the door, then a shout and a scream was heard as two of the lords men raced inside to set the building on fire. There was much commotion but as Boccus and his men backed away it was clear that the duty he had come to do had been done with the burning of the building.

“My lord this is an outrage!” gasped the famer who had been put onto his knees.

However one of the men cut his head off soon after and the farmer was dead.

Averelle was then placed on her knees and Hans heard a gasp that trembled through his teeth. Unless he threw his sword mighty swift he would never be able to spare the female who had captured the fire inside of his head and heart, and even then his fingers were not ready! Hans readied himself for immediate heart-break, however the lord Boccus threw up his hand and the sword that was yet to cut off Averelle's head was placed onto the ground.

“Let us finish this conversation in the palace;” told Boccus before he kicked at his horses ribs to back up its hooves.

Averelle was fast lifted onto a horse and soon the cluster of royal and peasant swept into the forest and disappeared. Hans sighed that Averelle had been spared, however he also made it his duty to rescue the female who looked like flint that would one day be burnt if she stayed with the rogue Boccus. So Hans moved his horse towards the direction the other rabble had fled and he chased.

It took two days to reach the castle and by that time Boccus had placed Averelle inside of the highest tower prison. Hans needed a disguise to be able to wander inside, and so he slammed his mighty fist on the helmet of an armored man by the gates and he dressed himself into the armor.

Hans walked into the castle and inside he met many armored men. They invited him to talk in the corridors and when they did Hans slaughtered them with his sword. Hans made his way up to the tower as quickly as he could and when there he made matchsticks of the door before he broke the chains Averelle had been tied against the wall with.

“Who are you?” asked Averelle in a tone so weak Hans knew that she had been deprived on water.

“I am Hans;” told Hans as he smiled at Averelle. “I have come to take you away;” he added.

“Oh thank-you!” cried Averelle as she sucked in a deep breath. “The king said he was going to cook me for dinner!” she added.

Hans tried to keep back the shame of growing hungry for human flesh. When on his journey he had eaten some human meat as meal and it had satisfied him in an unearthly manner. Hans wanted a meal of meat all of a sudden, but he sucked on his tongue and began to move.

“Come we must flee;” he told Averelle.

However the point of Boccus's sword pressed against Hans's chest.

“What is this?” asked Boccus before a gang of armored men raced inside of the room.

All of the men surrounded Hans and Averelle grew scared as the men ordered the two of them onto their knees.

“Onto your knees;” repeated Hans to Averelle who grew as tense as a person about to jump off a cliff.

Averelle sank onto her knees and as soon as she was on the floor Hans threw his flaming sword around his head beheading all of the men who had circled him. Averelle quivered as blood, heads, and bodies, dropped onto the floor in one big rush; she wanted to scream, however she had no time to think as Hans pulled her to her feet.

“Let us leave;” told Hans before he was stopped yet again by the point of Boccus's sword.

“Leaving already?” asked Boccus as he pressed the tip of the sword against Han's chest until it drew a rash of blood.

Hans wanted to stay strong however his legs fell weak as the blood dribbled over his skin. Hans fell onto his knees and when there Boccus laughed.

“Weak!” gasped Boccus. “You must be mighty to have lasted so long!” he gasped before he threw his eyes to Averelle who quivered inside of her skin at the sight of her rescuer so weak. “What does she mean to you?” asked Boccus who was unable to see Averelle as anything but a common peasant.

“She means my heart!” gasped Hans before he finally fainted.

“Your heart is dead;” told Boccus before he cut Hans's mighty leg. “Now you shan't be able to walk;” he muttered before he stepped up to Averelle and gave her a stare which warned her that he wanted her dead. “This barbarian beast seems to hold a heart dear for you;” he told as though ice were crusted on the edges of his teeth. “That is a dear shame;” he added before he took Averelle's arm as though it were a chicken leg to feast upon. “Come with me;” he added in a swift tongue.

Averelle wanted to shake her head but she followed Boccus down the staircase into a chamber that was royal. Averelle gasped at all the finery - never in her life had she seen so much gold, silver, and silk. Averelle grew confused as she saw herself in a mirror and she waved to what she thought was herself risen out of the water of the local ponds.

“That is a mirror;” told Boccus with a splint on his tongue. “You see a reflection, that is you;” he added.

Averlle smiled and she almost waved to herself once again, however Boccus covered the mirror with a mighty cape and her image was gone. Averelle fell a little sad over having had lost a new-found friend, however then Boccus turned to her and her fears were blown off the top of her mind.

“You do scare so easily;” told Boccus as he smiled.

Averelle could see the lord in him, so much she wanted to kneel, however her legs were like sticks and she knew that she couldn't even move. Her heartbeat began to pace as though she were on a run, and she knew then and there that she wanted to get away from Boccus who glared at her as though she were meat for a skewer.

“What is making you so infantile?” gasped Boccus before he lifted his sword and poked Averelle on the tip of her chin.

Averelle felt the sword scratch her skin, however it did not bleed. Averelle stepped away as the sword was taken down and she shivered in the shadow of an armoured statue. Averelle grasped as the statues arm for safety, however it did not move only it supported her weight which was on the lean as Boccus shadowed her even in the dim. A scream threatened to break out from Averelle's throat as Boccus moved to touch a portion of her sleeve. Averelle shivered as Boccus glared at her - even with all the dark around her she could see his grey iris's as clear as the sun in the sky, they haunted her as though they were made of witchcraft.

“Why did you bring me here?” asked Averelle as she felt her bones shudder.

“I want to get to know you;” told Boccus as he stepped a little closer. “As your rescuer wanted to know you;” he added before he blew Averelle a sorcerer's kiss that flew off his lips and landed onto her very own.

Averelle felt the lips fade into nothing and then she began to grow a dizzy mind which danced as the world turned into a cyclone that robbed her of the balance on her feet. When Averelle woke she was in a royal bed and it had been made damp with sweat.

“What happened?” she asked as she groaned.

“A trance;” told Boccus as he glared at her from his royal chair across the room as he sipped on wine. “You shall never know what you have done;” he added. “Now rest;” he told before he stood and left the room.

Boccus moved to walk down the hall to warn the men that more guard was needed around the cell, however Hans crawled out from a corner and stabbed Boccus in the ribs with his flaming sword. Boccus grew red in the face, then he withdrew a breath that had fire fanned along its tide - Hans waited for Boccus to fall but instead the lord threw himself against a wall and dissapeared through its stone.

“That lord is a sourcerer!” gasped Hans. “And he stole my sword!” he added before he began to beat at the stone with his fists.

However the stone was stronger then Hans's fist and were unable to be moved.

Hans sighed and with sorrow in his heart he moved to the royal chamber where he found Averelle asleep on the royal sheets. Hans grew heavy that she had been turned into a bed-maid, however he did not fall out of love and so he moved to Averelle and told her that he had come to take her away. However Averelle could not be woken; there was a chill inside of her blood that made her heart grow cold, and Hans knew that she would not be able to wake as soon as her heart had turned into ice. So Hans lit a candle, inhaled its flame, and then he moved to Averelle and gave her a kiss. Averelle's blood was warmed of its chill right away and she opened her eyes and smiled at Hans who was able to feel the love inside of his heart once again.

However a clap from a near distance broke Hans's attention and Hans peered over to the door where Boccus stood. Boccus had healed his skin with use of a potion and his eyes were stained with red as was his temper.

“What a lovely heart-filled story;” he told Hans as he stepped a foot closer towards him. “However I doubt very much there will be a happy ever after;” he added as his eyes grew as black as his soul.

“How dare you not leave to die!” gasped Hans angry that Boccus was so crafty with magic and occult as to be able to heal himself so quickly.

“How dare you not leave!” gasped Boccus as he glared at Hans and then Averelle who looked cured of the sickness he had placed inside of her. “How dare you not leave her to die!” he added.

“I am taking her away;” told Hans as he grew fever on his brows and fingers.

Boccus lifted up his sword and then he smiled as it grew as hot as heated iron before it lit up to form a flame.

“I doubt you will leave this room able to walk!” argued Boccus before he laughed and evil laugh that danced around the walls like the sound of a stone dropped inside of a giant cave.

Hans picked up the candle he had lit and threw it fast at Boccus's face! The heated wax melted over Boccus's eyes and he screamed as he dropped the sword to pry the wax off his iris's. Hans dove for his sword, grasped it, and stood to meet Boccus as a newly formed man. He then swung his mighty arm and Boccus gulped as the flame of the sword swept through his body until his spirit felt severed inside.

“You are still on witchcraft!” gasped Hans as he glared at Boccus who remained untouched. “Your head should have fallen to your feet!” he cried.

Boccus glared at Hans and shook his head left and right - he was physically fine, and knowing this he picked up his other sword and threw it at Hans so strong that as it hit Han's waistline its steel carved his mortal flesh in half! Hans fell onto the stone floor in two portions and he rolled his eyes as he died. Boccus glared at Hans with steel over his eyes and then he looked to Averelle who openly cried as she peered at Hans cut in half.

“Why do you cry?” asked Boccus as he glared. “Were you in love with the brute?” he asked.

“I am not sure;” muttered Averelle as she tried to wipe the tears from her face. “I just feel sad for him;” she added. “He tried to rescue me;” he declared as she shook her head. “Now he is dead;” she told.

“Yes he did try to steal you from me;” told Boccus as he glared at Averelle as though he wanted to devour her flesh until she was bone. “However he did not see that your fate has been taken well care of;” he added. “Enslaved to my kingdom;” he told.

Averelle looked to Boccus and tried to make her tears dry, however more ran down her cheeks and soon she sobbed.

“You will never have any reason to leave;” told Boccus. “I have defeated the world's most dangerous enemy;” he added. “I shall be able to defeat the world;” he said as he picked up Hans's flaming sword. “No one will ever be able to stop me;” he sung as he swirled it around until it grew a flame. “No one;” told Baccus as Averelle began to grow heavy inside of her heart. “Ever; he added with a silver spike on the edge of his tone. “You shall never leave this kingdom;” told Boccus as he glared at Averelle as though she might be able to warm his sheets a second time. “Ever;” he added before he placed the flaming sword inside of a mighty chest to be kept safe until the time he ever needed it to defeat any enemy or any world.

On The Run Story

Once there was a man named Jacob Petterson. He was a normal person who grew up in the inner city. He grew up and became a banker, then he became a shoe-seller, and then a drunk. One day he met a woman named Felicity Anne, and together they married and made a child. The child was named Andrew Petterson and when he grew up it was with war around him.

Andrew looked around him and saw that there were people on the street in gather before the church. He noticed flags and signs, and he gulped before he began to walk fast past the area. There was war on the rise and he knew people were being enlisted - he didn't want to be one of them, and so he walked fast as his heart murmured murmurs until he reached home.

At home Andrew met his mother Felicity who hunched over a kitchen bench with tears in her eyes. Felicity looked at Andrew and drew in a breath as though she were eased of some worries but troubled by many more.

“Your father has been taken;” she told Andrew in a sturdy tone despite the wetness that dribbled down over her fleshy cheeks. “He has been abducted by the Government;” she added.

“He has?” asked Andrew who sneered over the announcement that there was the threat of war inside of the house.

“He will never return;” told Felicity as she glared at Andrew with desperation as though he might be her final pay packet. “You must look after the family;” she added. “You're eighteen, you can provide for us;” she declared.

Andrew glared at Felicity as she hurried to gather his five brothers and two sisters to cluster them before him as though they were eggs who waited to be picked up. Andrew felt his heart-beat as a thud echoed inside of his brain - he didn't know what to say when there was nothing but a scream inside of his head that told him to run away and turn into wind. However then a shout broke his attention and a person in a uniform ordered for the door to be opened! Felicity choked and shook her head as she clutched at her childrens shoulders as though they were her only possessions. She felt her heartbeat turn wild until her cheeks blushed under skin as pale as snow after a winter storm.

“Who might that be?” she whispered as Andrew looked out of the window to see an officer on the porch.

Andrew gasped and scampered away as Felicity pried her fingers away from her children so that she might be able to open the door.

“Hello officer;” muttered Felicity as she blinked at the man on the porch dressed in uniform and army tags. “What may I do for you?” she questioned.

“Hello madame;” told the officer as he blinked at Felicity who looked torn and shaken. “I have been informed that you may have a young man aged eighteen inside of the house;” he told as he smiled with a twinkle in the right of his eyes.

“Why yes officer;” told Felicity as blood chilled inside of her bones.

“May I interview him?” asked the officer as he formed a stitched a smile on the corners of his mouth.

“Why yes, most certainly;” told Felicity as she looked behind her shoulder.

A draft told her that a window had been opened, however she knew not where it came from; inside her belly she felt a wobble, and then upon her shoulder she felt a stiff shove - the officer dove inside with his heels on the sprint and he busted through the bedroom door with pistol in hand. Felicity screamed as her children screamed as a gunshot was heard!

“A runner!” cried the officer before he raced out of the house.

Felicity cried as her skin wobbled from the chill she felt inside of her bones - she had no idea what had happened but she knew that she would never see Andrew ever again.

Andrew hopped onto a train and he breathed hard - he felt sweat on his chest and fever on his face; he had made it to his escape from the political theatre that was called army state and he sighed! He was never going to return home ever again. He was going to dissapear, marry, work, and then one day die; life was going to be easy, and he would not ever need to hear the word 'army' ever again.

However life was not that easy; Andrew grew up quick and within one year he had a wife had home. Andrew struggled with bills as his kids grew up and then bam! The army was on the march to collect those over twenty for the new war which was called 'blood of the nation march'. Andrew grew tense as his two kids Trisha and Patrick glared as his wife Charlotte rolled her eyes - he knew the army wanted him once again and he wanted to run as his thoughts screamed.

“A letter;” he garbled one dinner. “I have received a letter;” he told Charlotte as his nerves ran so tense his fingers shook.

“What is it about?” asked Charlotte as she glared at Andrew with black on her irises.

“It tells me that I need to join the army;” told Andrew as he felt his belly knot tight.

“So join the army;” told Charlotte as she blinked. “It will do you good, make you smart and grow you up;” she added. “You even get paid;” she told.

“I don't want to go to the army!” told Andrew as he grew disgusted at his wifes fleshy face which looked like his mothers face only with more freckles. “I want life to be normal!” he argued. “I like it normal;” he told.

“Well Government orders;” told Charlotte as she shrugged. “When you are told to go you go;” she added.

“Screw the Government!” gasped Andrew as he felt his hair stand on end. “I'll run;” he muttered as this mind devised a quick getaway plan.

“Don't run!” gasped Charlotte as she narrowed her eyes. “Don't run!” she told. “Fight with the Government;” she advised. “Life works out better that way;” she added.

“Life! What life!” gasped Andrew as he began to feel sick. “It's slaughter of honest men;” he argued.

“No;” muttered Charlotte as she paused to think. “It's the slaughter of poor men;” she told.

Andrew began to scowl as he felt a nit jump from the strands of his hair to tell him that he was poor and had always been poor - it made him mad that he was due for army duty with a meat stamp set upon his brow!

“You get paid and we will get our rent;” added Charlotte as she smiled before Andrew slapped her hard on the right cheek for having had called him poor.

Charlotte felt her mind turn green as she spat out the food inside of her mouth.

“Get out!” she gasped as she shivered until her blood turned cold. “Get out of this house!” she added. “How dare you hit me!” she growled.

“You get out!” cried Andrew before he took his feet for a long walk.

Outside Andrew moved down the street as though he were the darkness of night come to haunt. Nobody was on the street, no one was there to notice him as he panted through his chest as thoughts whirled through his mind. Andrew felt his mind click over the letter he had shoved inside of his pocket - he wanted it burned, but he held onto it until his pocket fell heavy. War was the last thing that he wanted to be a part of and his mind yet again wanted to scream.

“War!” gasped Andrew as he stopped before a puddle that licked the top of his shoes. “What am I going to do?” he asked before the sound of a gun told him to hurry away from the spot where he stood.

Andrew stayed in the shadows of the street. There was no life when he didn't walk into a building, and so he decided that on the street he would stay. Andrew stayed in the gutters for one whole week before a nag inside of his head told him that he needed a room. Andrew didn't have a cent inside of his pockets and so he decided he would do what any mortal would do in his situation – break in.

Andrew had a good nose for the hunt of vacant residences, and he managed to find a good one at the end of a dead-end block. The block was dark, so dark you couldn't see your own hand in front of your face! However there were many homes in the area which were bundled into blocks of flats, and at the end of the street there was a nook with a ladder that was the fire escape route. Andrew stalked past the fire escape ladder and found a window; with his very own fist inside of his jacket he broke the pane of glass and let himself inside. Andrew found darkness and he rushed through every room to find life - there was none, not even a dog; there was only furnishing, wine, a clean bed, and a closet full of clothes. Andrew smiled and wiped the sweat off his brow before he decided that he would stay.

Andrew lived the free life for one full month before a knock on his door made his smile hide. Andrew backed his feet into a cupboard and there he stayed as a set of keys opened the front door. Andrew wanted to shiver, however his mind grew wild as the intruder called out 'is anyone home?' Andrew didn't want the person inside, he wanted to live in the dream world where he was allowed to live as he liked for free. Andrew's anger boiled up inside of his belly and he began to touch all the items in the cupboard to try and find something he could protect his dream with. Andrew found a coat hanger and he immediately unravelled the item until it felt like a one millimeter thick dagger inside of tight fingers.

“Hello?” called the voice as steps entered the room. “Hello?” asked the voice as eyes peered at the cupboard and felt the energy of an enraged being trapped inside of its mouth. “Hello?” asked the voice as steps stepped closer to the cupboard.

Andrew sweated as the sound of heavy shoe on floorboards was heard like a moan that was slow and winded. As the cupboard door opened Andrew attacked! There were a few punches, some hot breathing, and wild commotion! A lamp crashed to the floor, a statue fell, and a mirror broke into splinters! At the end of an exhaustive battle blood calmed the scene and the stranger gurgled his last cry.

Andrew gasped! Sweat covered his arms and blood covered his fingers! He had done it, he had broken the law with the stamp of blood and he couldn't erase either! Andrew felt his head swarm and in panic and he jumped out of the very window he had broken when he had first entered the building. With guilt on his figure he ran away and he didn't stop until he met a train station. Andrew turned on the garden hose, washed the blood off his fingers, and then he entered the station. He paid for a ticket and within ten minutes he was on the road to somewhere else, and he was never to return to the place which had given him his family and his hideaway.

Andrew glared at the line of picket fences as a chill ran up his spine. The weather had turned cool as a storm threatened to break out from the coal black clouds above. Andrew glared at the line of houses and wondered which one was empty. He was thirsty and hungry, and he knew he needed to choose a new home - he just wasn’t sure which one.

Suddenly a woman with a shopping bag walked by Andrew. Andrew looked at the shopping bag and knew a cake was inside. He was hungry and his hands wanted to grab! So with drool under his tongue he walked like a dog on the hunt for a bone, and he trailed behind the woman who grew nervous until her breath choked inside of her throat over the footsteps that clip-clopped behind her own dainty footprints.

The woman reached her front door which was only two meters from the curb. Andrew stood aloof by the garden bed by the foot of the curb - he almost didn’t want to follow the woman, however as soon as he heard the door creak he ran as fast as the wind as a thunder rolled through the dark cloud above. Rain fell down behind Andrews shoulders as he stopped the front door from closing with his shoe - he had only just made it and he panted as a smile crept upon his face. A scream broke Andrew from his pride and he raced further inside as quick as a bullet!

Andrew glared at the woman who ran for the staircase! Andrew moved to follow however the womans husband raced out from the nearby study and tackled Andrew hard! Andrew crashed into a hard-wood cupboard and felt his chest crunch against a shelf. He moaned inside of his mind before he was thrown to the wall behind him and punched several times until his gut felt like mashed potato. The woman on the staircase laughed as she watched Andrew get beaten up, her laughter rang through Andrews ears and he managed to shout before a blow to the head made his mind fall weak.

Andrew shoved his attacker hard until his feet stumbled back enough to allow him an escape, then Andrew ran! However at the front door he was tackled again and brought to the floor where he was kicked, stomped on, and elbowed until his bones felt broken.

“You thought you was going to be an easy robbery didn’t you?” asked the fellow whose name was ‘bastard’ in the back of Andrew mind. “A nice round of free pocket money!” he added before he stomped on Andrew hand so hard Andrew's tongue was able to make a scream of its own.

Andrew brought his hand close to his chest and trembled as he looked at the towering homeowner before him. He looked like a jerk, the kind of person who would give a man an order rather than receive one. Andrew brooded as the attacker moved to the nearby phone to call the cops. Andrew realized then and there that he looked like he had been beaten, and he grew a rage as red as a hot iron as he took out a knife he had swiped from a table as he had walked past a local eaterie. The knife had butter on its edge, however it didn’t matter; Andrew only needed to stab with it not eat with it.

Andrew gasped and drew in a sore breath, then he stood as the fellow on the phone had his back turned as he spelt out his address. Andrew raced and lunged! He stabbed the good fellow in the ribs so deep he gasped! Andrew felt pride as a scream echoed around his ears as though they were Christmas bells! Andrew felt his mind dance! However then the good fellow picked up a gun that was hidden under the table the phone was set upon and he threw Andrew away with a push of his arm before he shot! Andrew stumbled and then he crashed to the ground as pain swelled through his chest. He had been shot, and there was already blood on the floorboards. Andrew tried to forget about the pain however it was too intense and after a while he tasted blood on his tongue.

“Why is my face bleeding?” he asked through frozen lips as a shadow crawled over him like a plague of death upon his spine.

“Because you are dying;” told the homeowner who winced from the throb that rushed through his ribs. “No ambulance will be called to pick you up, you shall keep dying until you are fit enough to be thrown into the gutter where you belong;”

Andrew shivered as he closed his eyes; he didn’t want to remember the world any more, he just wanted to forget about it as warm wet flooded enough to lick at his jawline. He was buried in a pool of his own blood and he couldn’t even crawl to get away. He laid there with wet, bloody, stench stuffed inside of his nostrils, and as a storm of footsteps raced for him he died - not a single person could ask him even for his name, he was dead, and he was never able to tell them that he had been an honest man on the run rather than a robber there for steal.