Wednesday, 16 January 2013


The sword was fast, as was the woman holding it.

The best sword-fighter in the country was my opposition and she was a woman.

If I lost it would be with complete humiliation.

Not that I would necessarily be alive.

I ducked as a particularly deadly looking blow whistled over my head.

I made a cut at her leg, completing it with a spin as I came to stand straight.

She had dodged it easily and she delivered another sweep that knocked the sword from my hand.

I stared at her in disbelief and then pleadingly as I saw the evil glint in her eye.

Humiliation, then a funeral.

No comments:

Post a Comment