The last of the enemy warriors fell, and with him did the hope of their people. At the top of the mountain of corpses stood one single man, drenched in blood.
As the ground beneath the building rumbled, the man looked at his dead children. He gave them a caress and a last kiss, turned around and walked away. As he crossed the threshold to the balcony, he sprinted and jumped over the railing. As he fell, he turned round and prepared to hit the pile of hay that was just in the right spot for when the time came. His whole house had been designed knowing sooner or later he would be found. He just did not expect it to happen so soon. He had hoped his children would have time to grow up, leave his mistakes behind, and live unknowing of the blood they carried.
Finally home, after spending the morning at work, the half the afternoon studying, and then being in a little car accident. No one got hurt, and my friend’s car only got one door damaged, although the other car had something wrong with one of the front wheels so they had to get it towed away.
Anyhow, like most Fridays I would like to spend the weekend doing a lot of things I haven’t been able to do during the week, but I know I’ll probably just spend the time lazing around in my bedroom.
One of the things I want to do is get all my old intros and short stories in here, so maybe I’ll start with that.