Chapter 3

Seemingly unaware of all the agitation and the coming misfortune, an old, almost blind man sat at the gates of Cerenia. No one knew where he came from, or how he got there, but he had been sitting there rambling and murmuring for ages occasionally refraining to seek alms. His frame was frail yet sturdy. Such it was that it seemed to suggest that he may have lived a life of hardship and discipline at some point.
If only one had stooped closer to listen to what he rattled all day, would have known that he was in fact once a general in the ranks of the Phalanx of chaos.

He too once was a harbinger of death and suffering. Hundreds had been killed at his will. Like the ones that marched towards the city, he too once had no remorse or guilt about the death of innocents. But now he sat distraught and horrified, recounting the days of his past, petrified reliving each moment.

“There must have been a reason; of course there must have been.” he reminisced in anguish. “They couldn’t have just been killed in vain. They were the scum of the earth, weren’t they? They deserved to die, every last one of them.” But then, with his head bowed in shame, he spoke under his breath, “It was all futile. Every head was severed in vain. No good came of it.” “Hate had the better of me, I was its slave. We were all its slaves.” he gnashed his teeth retrospecting. “There has never been, neither shall ever be a reason for hatred. In the end we all prostitute ourselves to our desires to kill and annihilate.”

Published in: on September 17, 2010 at 7:20 am  Leave a Comment  

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