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Power_Essay.doc

Power_Essay.doc

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Published by: lhcynth on Dec 05, 2012
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12/05/2012

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The angry pounding of the waves on the shore seemed fitting to the scene playing out in front of everyone

. I faced off the ruler of Ithaka, King Marcory, as the King of Zephyra, on a sandy beach surrounded by jagged cliffs. We were in a one-on-one fight, a duel to the death for my kingdom. For the past years, King Marcory had been on a killing spree in a quest for more power. He massacred, he slaughtered, and he wiped out thousands of innocent people to feed his lust for power. There was actually a time when Ithaka was a peaceful and prosperous country, where food was plentiful and when the people thrived. But then, an inexplicable famine struck Ithaka. In a desperate bid to save his people, King Marcory invaded his neighbouring kingdoms to gain more fertile land to feed the Ithakans. But, he became glutted and obsessed with power, with the thrill that he felt when he killed. He conquered all the countries in the region and now, he had set his eyes on my land. The only way to stop him and to prevent further bloodshed (by having our armies crossing blades) was to fight him. I scrutinized him again, trying to look for the fair and just ruler I once knew. But there was no sign of the old Marcory in this stranger’s glazed eyes. He snarled, and we circled each other warily. What was he up to, now? The twitch in his right leg gave away his next move. He lunged. I blocked him using my shield, and feinted to my right, pretending to aim for his side. I went left and managed to slice a gash into his left arm, also his sword arm. He howled in agony and kicked s shower of sand at me, blinding my eyes. This time, I went down, crying out in pain even as I rubbed at my eyes furiously. I managed to open my eyes just in time to see Marcory’s blade aiming straight for my chest. I threw up my left arm, that was strapped with the shield, to block his blow. His sword connected with my shield and the jarring blow caused his left hand to spasm open and him to drop his sword. I went in for the kill, but he used his right arm to backhand me instead. It connected with my cheekbone, and caused my vision to turn white for a second. I lashed out with my sword blindly. Then , I decided that attacking him was not the best strategy. As the fight progressed, I made myself seem weaker, as if my strength was failing and I was starting to get tired. I made myself collapse onto the ground,( hoping that he would let his guard down)/(making him think that I had passed out). He fell for the trick in his power-crazy state of mind. As he reached for his sword, I leapt up, just in time to see the flicker of surprise in Marcory’s eyes before I plunged my blade up his chest. I heard a few ribs crack and I think, that perhaps, I had stabbed him in the heart. Blood bubbled out of his mouth and his eyes seemed to clear from blood-red to sea green. The hostile aura seemed to leave him; and at once, I knew, the old Marcory was back. He staggered on his feet, seemingly disoriented and confused, detached from his surroundings. But then he saw the sword hilt sticking out of his torso, his expression cleared.

I clasped his hand in mine as he mouthed the words, “I’m sorry…” I squeezed his hand in mine, the same hand that had held mine as he had taught me to use my first sword. I held him in an embrace as tears fell freely down my face. “Warriors do not cry. Get up and do what you have to do.” I remembered him saying that to me once when I fell down when sparring with him when I was barely seven. The memory of it made me cry even harder. “Goodbye…brother,” I whispered my last words in his ear. As I knelt on the sandy beach and heard the pounding of the waves, I held my brother with my bloodstained hands and thought, “What have I done?”

The End, what do you think? :O

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