The night was black except for the intermittent green flares flashing across the sable sky.
The air was cold and dank cutting away every breath.
Silently, the warrior stood on the mired hilltop waiting and watching as the virid flames grew closer by the minute.
Dressed in an ivory-colored shirtwaist tucked in a pair of drab trousers muddied from the hilltop, the warrior stood ready waiting for the battle yet to come.
The warrior shuddered, riddled with disease affecting both mind and body.
The motion caused her xanthous hair to fall loose beneath the helmet she wore in preparedness.
Brushing it aside, she stood at attention as the beast circled down around her.
Ripping out the sword from its sheathe, she struck out blindly filled with venom.
The beast reared its ugly head as she missed and lost her stance.
Like a tumor her disease grew eating up her mind, heart and soul.
Everyone touched by the tumor becomes mindless and cold-hearted searching out new victims to claim as their own.
After regaining her composure, she watched as he flew down near her once again.
Violently stabbing the beast, the tumor spread rapidly through her system like a leech not letting go of its host.
Pulling out her sword, she fell forward into the mud gasping for air exhausted as if she had received the wound she had delivered instead of the beast.
Looking down, the jaded sword still in her grip shone brightly approving of her deed to claim what she wanted.

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This page is maintained by Cynthia and was last modified on Friday, November 27, 1998.