literature

Not the hero

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Literature Text

My name is H’soma’k Vesav’kir.

I am a worshipper of Shevarash.

I am a guard.

And right now…I think I’m dying.

It’s funny you know. I’m laying here in a puddle of my own blood and it occurs to me that the strangest things flit through your mind when you’re dying. I’m lying here staring at a dusty chandelier. I can’t move. I think he severed my spine. It didn’t kill me though and now I’m laying here, listening to the screams of my comrades as they too fall only to lay in their own puddles somewhere farther up the hall.

God…it hurts. I can’t feel my toes but there’s a burn in my right shoulder that I can only assume is a cut and the fire spreading across my upper back is almost too much to bear. The shouting is subsiding a bit as he moves farther into the hall. God…he’s killing everyone. Everyone. I think I just heard a woman scream. Shevarash help us. Are we so forgettable? Have you forsaken us all?

I’m cold. My own blood isn’t keeping me warm anymore and it’s losing its warmth all around me. I feel tears streaming from the corners of my eyes. They roll down my face and I feel them slide into my hairline. It dawns on me with a note of surprise that I’m crying. I’m a pretty brave person…yet I’m sitting here fighting a sob. I don’t want to die like this.

Please. PLEASE I don’t want to die.

Does that make me unfaithful? That I don’t WANT to see the other side?

An image of my little sister pops into my head. She hasn’t hit adulthood yet. Her birthday is next month and her favorite color is blue. I was going to take her to Waterdeep. I have a younger brother and two older brothers….one of them will take her I hope. I’m going to miss them.

I’m SO cold.

I have a cat. He’s orange and white and…. Who is going to feed him? I hope the bastard didn’t kill my cat….

The floor is spinning now. It gets worse when I close my eyes. I feel like I’m going to slide right off it. I go back to staring at the dusty chandelier. Was it always that dirty?

I can’t keep my thoughts in order. My head is full of cotton and I think I’m forgetting something. I miss my cat.

The chandelier goes away and I’m looking up at the face of an uncaring angel. She doesn’t look very kind. She’s beautiful though.

No. She’s not an angel. She’s with HIM. His companion I guess. Her eyes are purple….huh. Strange. It’s like his hair. Maybe it’s something they both do. She’s just standing there looking down at me.

My vision is swimming and I’m so damn tired.

I don’t want to die.

I think I may have just told her that. I can’t be sure.

I don’t think she cares.

There’s a sharp pain on my forehead and I open my eyes. I didn’t realize I had closed them. I wish I hadn’t opened them. There’s a thin silver line between me and her now and I see the hand guard of a sword far above me. The pain is a sharp point resting between my eyes.

No.

Please not like this. I don’t want my sister to see me like that.

Please…..please. I don’t want to …
Ok, this is under fanfiction because it is based off a story written by The story can be found here:
[link]

This is just sort of random drivel that I HAD to get out of my head before it ate my brain entirely. had written this and after reading it, I was struck with the thought that we, the reader, always see things from the point of view of the hero (or a third person about the hero). It's not often we see what the individual average, everyday guy/gal sees when they encounter the heroes of our stories. Thus, as I lay in bed trying DESPARATELY to sleep, this damn story kept running through my brain and it wouldn't stop until I wrote it. So here it is. If it confuses anyone, well...I'm sorry.

Misery, Velrose, I hope you like it.

Misery is property of and Azealyn is property of I'm borrowing them for just a minute. :)
© 2007 - 2024 otterling
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Artheeria's avatar
You never think of things from this view...

Nice take on it :D