The clock ticks in tandem with the light hum of the mornings breeze.
Its peaceful melody a stark contrast to the crimson soaked greens of the field.
The weight of one's world can only be bared for so long.
And so, his knees crash into the dirt, sweat gathering on his brow and tears streaming down his face.
Open fields and open wounds. Dead people and dead weight.
This checker board reality that has been playing out for nine long years.
Slowly he feels it, the sun peaks over the mountains, beams of radiant light streaming in the air.
A worn page slowly turned to the end of a chapter, only to find blank parchment.
His armor weighs heavy on tired shoulders,
and he has become thirsty for the innocence that once flowed from him so excessively
When his hands join him collapsed and kneeling,
air fills lungs that kept stale breaths close to heart, a repetitive routine, safe and normal.
The chapter closes and with it a blood stained sword is wrenched from the body it had made its home.
Droplets of red turn black with the sliding pressure of a ballpoint pen carving the first words on a fresh page.
"I have come far. From a child I have been forged in the flames of my mind, wicked and stinging, the pain of days gone by whipped and chiseled the rough edges that have carried me this far. This is my story, dear reader, like any other I have faced the world the best I can and I have faced my demons, but most of all I have faced myself. The dark thoughts behind fiery eyes that have told me "no" and I shouted "yes!".
"This is my story, the tale of a man who was still a boy. Of great treasure stolen and new treasure regained, worth more than the cold gold coin, a currency infinite in reward for it is the strength that carries me forward. The lessons learned ink my skin with a map to my treasure that I have learned to cherish, for X marks my heart!"
The sun risen over the mountains, blazing and hot, shimmering off dulled and scuffed armor.
Unbuckling piece by piece, the metal falls from him, the burdens of the past settling into the warming grass.
Shield and sword in hand, like the sun, he too rises.
The haunting past becomes the dewy fog at his feet, experiences worthy of memory at his back,
he takes the next step.