Thorn

                                                                                  Thorn

                                                                                    By

                                                                      Miguel Angel Carreno



         He stared down at his shackled hands, while twenty men surrounded him. Their Swords drawn, ready to pounce on the defenseless prisoner. They yelled, and hollered anything that would provoke him. Even dirt was thrown at him, but nothing. His mind was elsewhere.

                Visions of green fields from his home land, his beautiful wife Rosalina and son Valen playing in them. Holding both of them close in his arms. Sitting down for dinner with them. And then the nightmare of their home burning to the ground. Screaming for them, then dragged away in tears.

         Not standing in front of twenty men, shirtless, and covered in dirt and blood. His dark hair touched his soldiers, hiding his face, and anger. He looked like a barbarian, not a nobleman. A soldier took the point of his sword and touched it to the prisoner’s neck.

                   “Your name my lord?!”

         

In a sudden burst he broke the chains against the blade, sending it into the guards head as he yelled “THORN!” He then took the sword from the man’s head, and began hacking, slashing through the other nineteen men. Arms, legs, and heads were removed, while bellies were cut in half spilling their insides.

         When it was over, the dust cleared and settled, he stood before a pile of dead men. Dripping blood from his hair, and arms. He knelt to catch his breathe, and heard a slow thunder from the ground. Approaching over a hill were a hundred more soldiers, ready to charge at him. He made the sign of the cross, and whispered “For you Rosalina, for you Valen, I will see you soon!” He charged into the hundred men not knowing if he would triumph or die.