Day 84 Writing Short Stories

Hero

For the cursed existence he had ever known, his death takes the cake. He had arrived in hell, literally. They had stripped him of his knighthood, his soul, his duty, and his valor, and left him with nothing but hatred and torment in his death. Death he took by his own hand—something he should never have done.

He is to play his glory and demise over and over again. One mistake that made him this barbarian he knows nothing of. That one mistake which made his king cast him aside, forcing him to kill himself against his conscience and religion.

The demons tormenting him take great satisfaction as he fights them all along the way. He wailed as they took away his armor and made him fight in their arenas with just skin and sword. They lash him to death, and then it starts again and again and again. He has become the glory of the century, drawing demons near and far to watch his fall. They say that the Devil himself will come. The rumors are spoken as something he should be proud of. Yet, all he does is pray to the saints for salvation. The demons know this, and they spit the fact that there won’t be salvation ever again—hell is permanent—in his face, taking pride as they see the agony in his eyes.

He lifts his head to meet his audience. The dead eyes peer back at him with the intensity he would have had nightmares about years ago when alive. Now, those grotesque faces and dead eyes hold no torment. He will come back again and again, but today, in this battle, he has another plan. The rumors are finally true.

He lifts his sword, waiting for the gates to open. He now knows the mockery the arena represents of his life as a knight. The valor and righteousness he thought to possess as the king’s arm are gone. He was no better than the monster he has now become. He had killed for a command, for the amusement of his king. There was no noble cause, just death.

They let the first beast in. It’s a huge, fanged, centipede-like creature with spikes protruding out of its spine. Its hardened skin with plated shells glistens with toxic saliva. He knows the saliva will burn him. He knows he has to get his sword between those plates, or he will be dead.

The monster rushes to him, opening its stomach to him. The demons want this fight to be impressive, but they also want him to survive, so they give him this dumb creature. He doesn’t take the bait. Instead, he hacks the sword deep into the beast’s hardened shell and hoists himself up on the creature. The saliva burns his naked legs. But pain is pain, and after a thousand deaths there is no point in noticing.

He takes hold of the upper plate, riding the centipede through the arena right into the crowd of demons, hacking them down with his sword. Their surprised looks give him great satisfaction. Their fallen heads give him even more.

And there it is, the roar he has been looking for. The Devil himself rises from the crowd. His mighty horns and bat wings are the epitome of what evil should look like. He has noticed that hell is nothing but appearances. The soul and the darkness he thought it possessed are not there.

The Devil lifts into the air and shoots down to face him and his steed.

He lifts his sword, and there it is, what he wants more than anything. The Devil sees it in his eyes, and they both know that he has won. There is no salvation, but there is utter demise, and he has chosen it rather than to be the newest fad of the demons.

And the Devil delivers and crushes him and his soul.

—

Oh, oh, oh. I had so much fun writing this. Again, as always, I didn’t know this story existed, and it wrote itself, but I had fun riding the story through and seeing the ending. So, so, so fun to write.

What I got today was a lyrical action tragedy written in the omniscient third person. I took liberties with the lyrical part and chose limited third person instead, but otherwise there was action and an utter fall from glory. Okay, in a proper tragedy, there should be more showing the glory and happiness the protagonist has, but that doesn’t serve the purpose of these short writing prompts I write in one sitting.

I will take the weekend off. I will take a short climbing trip. I will write tomorrow, and then I will be back on Monday.

Thank you for reading! Have a glorious day and see you tomorrow ❤