I'm Not Insane! By Nacoutte
Disclaimer: I don't own the Ronin Warriors or anything that has to do with them
Imagine standing in the middle of a large field. The sun starts rising, chasing away the chill of the night and replacing it with a calming warmth. The black turning into a dark red, the color of blood. That's when you notice there's no flowers or even grass in this field. There's only corpses as far as the eyes can see. They are all wearing armor, their vacant eyes staring in all directions, even at you.
Now imagine your the one that killed them. You're weapon hangs loosely at your side, almost falling out of your hand. You know you don't need it anymore, but you can't let it go. It's all you have left. The war is over. No more soldiers are coming at you, their leader is dead. You helped kill him too. Now you have to return to the life you had before. Before you were called to fight, before you were forced to kill, before you helped save the world.
Now imagine going threw all that, doing all that, and only being 14. The years that are suppose to shape the way you view the world and who you become are started out by fighting a long war. How could you possible turn out normal? What exactly is normal and who's standards do people go by? I guess it doesn't matter.
He tried his best, my father did, but you can't run from something like that forever. He went back to school, graduated and got a job. He met my mother but she didn't stay long. She left both of us when I was still little. I don't even remember her.
He used to tell me the stories of the war before I went to sleep. It started when I was little and refused to go to bed. He was at his wits end and told me about when they won. After that I had to hear more. So he told me his stories until I fell asleep, then he had nightmares about them. I heard him even though he didn't think I could. He had two crappie jobs to support us. We didn't have much but that didn't bother me.
It must have been horrible. He didn't have a choice in the matter he had to fight. He had no idea what he was doing when it all started. He didn't get a chance to practice with his armor or even met the other people he was fighting the evil with. He wasn't sure how long it all lasted but it seemed like a lifetime to him because it was. He have my survived the war but he was forever changed, a different person when it was over. It's not fair you know. Being so young and forced to kill to survive, having everything depend on you. If he failed the whole world would be destroyed.
Anytime I had to write a report on who my hero is i always put my father, then I told his tale. When I was little my teachers thought I was cute to make up such a story. My father even laughed when he read them because I got everything all mixed up. Then, he left. I was only 9 when I woke up one morning and he was gone. On the pillow next to my head was a note that said, "I love you. I'll always come back for you."
The police searched the house when someone finally called them about me. I was found curled up in my father's bed sleeping. They found no signs of anyone braking in or a kidnapping. They decided that he just left, abandoned me in the night my my mother but they're all wrong. Sure the TV, CDs and clothes were all still there but the most important item was gone, his orb. That means he's off somewhere, saving the world again.
He'll come back for me. In the mean time I have to wait here. I refused to say anything but the truth when asked about my father so I was put in a mental institution. This is suppose to be my last chance to tell "the truth". I think they'll keep me in here forever if I don't tell them something else. I can't lie though, he deserves the truth no matter what. I refuse to lie.
It's hard to concentrate with all the noise going on outside solitary confinement. It sounds like someone is trying to brake out. Or maybe brake in. That would show them, seeing my father in his full armor. They'd believe me then. Someone's coming down the hallway. In a few seconds I'm either going to prove everyone wrong or someone's going to take this paper and I'll never the outside again.
Disclaimer: I don't own the Ronin Warriors or anything that has to do with them
Imagine standing in the middle of a large field. The sun starts rising, chasing away the chill of the night and replacing it with a calming warmth. The black turning into a dark red, the color of blood. That's when you notice there's no flowers or even grass in this field. There's only corpses as far as the eyes can see. They are all wearing armor, their vacant eyes staring in all directions, even at you.
Now imagine your the one that killed them. You're weapon hangs loosely at your side, almost falling out of your hand. You know you don't need it anymore, but you can't let it go. It's all you have left. The war is over. No more soldiers are coming at you, their leader is dead. You helped kill him too. Now you have to return to the life you had before. Before you were called to fight, before you were forced to kill, before you helped save the world.
Now imagine going threw all that, doing all that, and only being 14. The years that are suppose to shape the way you view the world and who you become are started out by fighting a long war. How could you possible turn out normal? What exactly is normal and who's standards do people go by? I guess it doesn't matter.
He tried his best, my father did, but you can't run from something like that forever. He went back to school, graduated and got a job. He met my mother but she didn't stay long. She left both of us when I was still little. I don't even remember her.
He used to tell me the stories of the war before I went to sleep. It started when I was little and refused to go to bed. He was at his wits end and told me about when they won. After that I had to hear more. So he told me his stories until I fell asleep, then he had nightmares about them. I heard him even though he didn't think I could. He had two crappie jobs to support us. We didn't have much but that didn't bother me.
It must have been horrible. He didn't have a choice in the matter he had to fight. He had no idea what he was doing when it all started. He didn't get a chance to practice with his armor or even met the other people he was fighting the evil with. He wasn't sure how long it all lasted but it seemed like a lifetime to him because it was. He have my survived the war but he was forever changed, a different person when it was over. It's not fair you know. Being so young and forced to kill to survive, having everything depend on you. If he failed the whole world would be destroyed.
Anytime I had to write a report on who my hero is i always put my father, then I told his tale. When I was little my teachers thought I was cute to make up such a story. My father even laughed when he read them because I got everything all mixed up. Then, he left. I was only 9 when I woke up one morning and he was gone. On the pillow next to my head was a note that said, "I love you. I'll always come back for you."
The police searched the house when someone finally called them about me. I was found curled up in my father's bed sleeping. They found no signs of anyone braking in or a kidnapping. They decided that he just left, abandoned me in the night my my mother but they're all wrong. Sure the TV, CDs and clothes were all still there but the most important item was gone, his orb. That means he's off somewhere, saving the world again.
He'll come back for me. In the mean time I have to wait here. I refused to say anything but the truth when asked about my father so I was put in a mental institution. This is suppose to be my last chance to tell "the truth". I think they'll keep me in here forever if I don't tell them something else. I can't lie though, he deserves the truth no matter what. I refuse to lie.
It's hard to concentrate with all the noise going on outside solitary confinement. It sounds like someone is trying to brake out. Or maybe brake in. That would show them, seeing my father in his full armor. They'd believe me then. Someone's coming down the hallway. In a few seconds I'm either going to prove everyone wrong or someone's going to take this paper and I'll never the outside again.