Forgotten Warriors

    In the end there were only four of us.

    We've been fighting, for years, not knowing when the war would end or will it ever end. Ever since we gained consciousness, we only knew we were fighting. In the beginning we numbered in thousands, but the enemy outnumbered us a hundred to one.... But we never gave up. We fought, the hardest we could. But in the end the numbers were too overwhelming. And one by one, our friends dissappeared- lost within the veils of war. But we kept on, with our heads held high and our grips held tight. We were injured, yes.  But then again, we survived. And in that faint survival we found a new reason to fight.

    Then came the day- the day when we lost another. I remember his valiant screams as he kept on, fighting and dodging- holding onto every shred of will that he had- the strong will to live. But the enemy was more reluctant than he was. They kept on marching, and in the end they prevailed. For an instance I looked back and I saw his severed corpse- still with a smile on his face. That incident got me thinking- were we making a mistake continuing on? Continuing in this cold, barren place in a battle we could never win? Is giving up the way? What was he happy for in the end? The bliss of the end of this pain? I looked up to the barren skies up above, not a cloud in sight. Even they dare not visit this land of hallows. If I am to die here, let it be in the hands of a worthy opponent.

    Unsure, unaware of the future, we decide to continue. A member less in our group, but theirs do not even seem to falter. Today we head out in the open, through the same place my friend died, to get to the other side. May luck be with us.



    -" Is that it? That's only what it says?"

    -" Yeah, it seems so. This is the last entry in this journal."

    -" What do you think happened?"

    -" I don't know, but there are some splatters of blood in the last pages."