....life, here I go.
I thought, as the sharp pain in my abdomen made me aware of my chances at survival.
" ...f, fck this.." The unpredictable life, is- once again-showing it's true colors.
I dragged myself up, taking a look at the blood oozing wound.
Seriously..I am dead...so dead.
All of this! All of this is because of that psycho knight!!!
I wanted to shout this sentence out loud, but unfortunately, I didn't have the breath to do so.
That mad person, that stupidly mad person, died and is now taking me down with him!
If I could, I would go down that cliff and kill him again!
"-Ahhh!"
The churning pain did not ease and I could only groan and cry.
But, I rather chose to curse the idiot knight who caused this mess.
The wound, was bleeding and everything but I didn't have the courage to look at it -or I couldn't- my clothes were sticking to the stabbed region and I was unable to pull it up.
My hands were trembling uncontrably, the best I could do was, move less to minimise the bleeding.
I could only wait for help, which would never arrive.
Afterall, in the middle of forest, at this hour, only bandits and someone crazy would roam.
My body had started to feel heavy.
The blood loss did a toll on me, I felt dizzy all over, my body losing all sense of self.
I felt sleepy, really sleepy.
I just wanted to sleep cozily without a worry in the world.
And that was the last thing I remembered of doing.
*
When my eyes opened again, I wasn't in a clinic nor at some stranger's house, rather I was back in the woods.
And in front of me was that knight.
He was holding a bandit by his collar while spewing nonsense about honesty and virtue...just like in the past.
This made me confused, only for a moment though.
'If God has given me another chance I will gladly kill that guy myself.'
I thought as I took a step forward, but I didn't move.
I tried and tried again, but I couldn't take a step ahead. It felt like fighting air.
My body was oddly light and I was unable to coordinate my physical movements. I could only helplessly gaze at the sight in front of me.
'Maybe this is just a dream.. or just a recall?'
That guy was already surrounded by some other seven bandits and they were hitting him like crazy.
He couldn't even get up, getting kicked and kicked till he lost consciousness and got thrown off by the same cliff I knew off.
'Jeez, what was he thinking? One against seven?'
The scene began to crumble like sand. A new scene appearing before me.
In it, I saw myself, lying in a pool of blood. Tota~lly k.o-ed
'Yup! Surely a recall of past.'
Guess someone did arrive. Death.
.
To the writer, this was the second time - full-stops felt this evil.
The full-stop on his life.
The first time? Everytime was the first time!
Whenever he would write and end a sentence with a full-stop, he felt it's power.
The next sentence could be totally out of place, could have years of time passed through it, could be totally unexpected, could be totally uncertain. And he did not know, how to define this uncertainty, other than "evil".
Afterall, evil is anything that stirs chaos in you heart, that drives you to an edge.
If to compare, full-stops were just like blinking. No one knew, what would be happen in the next blink. Your whole life could be gone in one blink, like in an accident or through a stab, as in the case of the writer.
'Or in the next blink, the weird world you are in may collapse and you wake up to find yourself being poked in the head with a stick by a dumb looking man!'
Writer took one look at the guy -still poking his head- and rolled his eyes to unconsciousness.
_._