Duel

"what's with this guy?"

Tired and bruised, the wind danced mockingly in front of us.  Two spirits entwined in a struggle for fame, fortune, and...love?

Well, to say I was in love is to give too much importance to the event.  In actuality it was more like going to the market and squeezing that fruit that you knew, the moment you touched it, was destined to empty from your bowels not a day later.

Hunger and exhaustion began creeping up on me like a shot of whisky.


"Hey, you givin' up yet?"

"Not a chance, vagrant!"


Vagrant. 

That's just the kind of guy he was.  Always acting the part of the white knight.  The noble hero who, as a child, would always shout "No fair!" when things didn't go his way.  To him love was when you slayed the mighty dragon and the village would force the princess to marry out of contract.  It was nothing more than a living, breathing, medal to show off to whomever you can.


So then, why am I here?  What am I doing?  What is my purpose?

Greed, first and foremost.

I'm not the hero of this story.
If there even was a hero in our midst he would undoubtedly be smothered out by the sounds of the roaring crowd, all too eager to see the trophy, once gold, stained red.

However, my interests rest with something more...pleasureable.


Dagger gripped tighty in my hand I shot forward, carrying behind me both the weight of my blade and the weight of my pride (perhaps the deadlier weapon).

A deafening clash of steel on steel echoed through my skull as the shock jarred my weathered bones to life.  Looking into his eyes I studied his will.  A heart pierced by a cowards blade is still but a pierced heart.

"You haven't got what it takes to survive!, bow out now and the people may yet spare you!"

Poking at his weaknesses was how I dealt with him as a boy, he was always nothing but a pest.  Of course, back then he was just a pest with a stick.  He has since grown into a man with a fetish for confrontation and a wallet to match, only the most expensive blades for him.

"A hero never backs down, you heathen!"

And at that his life was over.

In his attempt play the part of something great he lost sight of the little things, the important things. 


Body slumping forward, the little dagger quivered in the back of his neck.



I'm not the hero of this story, just a guy who walked out of there with fame, fortune, and...love?
Maybe not...
But whatever it was she's mine now.  A prize given to the man with the sharpest blade.