Disclaimer - I don't own anything even remotely affiliated with the Ronin Warriors/Samurai Troopers, nor do I claim to. I just love to write, and hope that perhaps you will enjoy my story. :)
The battle between good and evil is never an easy one. The road is usually paved with pain, suffering, madness and death, and those in its wake are forever scarred and torn. Some wish that it was deal that could be passed up; that they could just say no to their destiny and hide in a closet, away from the torture and the legacy that would forever throw their world upside down.
Too bad it isn't that easy.
Too bad life is a never-ending battle, one that is the only guarantee besides death- and taxes, of course. However, everyone fights a different battle, whatever it may be. Some don't even realize that they are fighting, until they either succeed, or are demolished and left in the dust of the past.
I know this to be true, because I fight constantly. It may be merely with a bully or my parents over a simple poor math grade, or perhaps one day, something much greater. I know that day is coming; I can feel it aching in my young joints. I am only 17 years old, and yet I feel as though I have aged a hundred years with the images that come to me in my dreams and haunt me even in the daylight.
I have my fair share of demons, I am ready to admit. They are of many colors, of many sizes and speak languages I can't even begin to comprehend. They whisper to me when I close my eyes and caress me with their heartless gazes when I reopen them. I can never escape, I am starting to believe. I feel lost, but I suppose it is alright. They say I'll grow out of it. You can grow out of anything, you know. Or so they say. So THEY say-
They-
The fine line between my reality and my demonic world of voiceless whispers is beginning to blur. I hope that I am not going mad. It is my new battle, this fight not to lose myself to these images- to those who haunt my mind. But I feel as though there's something more; something accompanying these thoughts that makes them just as much a gift as a curse. It could be the gentle voice that asks me my name, and lulls me to sleep with their promise that I am not alone.
Who are you? Please help me-
I know that someone is there. I can sense their confusion, as though it is as much a wonder to them as to me why they are even there to begin with. However it is comfort and comfort is not something I will easily pass up; I get so little of it. They say that it is better not to acknowledge my problem. They say it will only make me worse.
They. They say it. Figures.
I reach for the voice; the promise of a guardian, a savior… a friend- I beg them to come closer than just a faint cry in the distance. But the gloomy figures of doom block the path, and keep me isolated. Will I ever meet them, or will I die at the hands of my own mind?
I sleep now, but for how long? I usually awaken on the hour to yet another nightmare, but maybe tonight will be different. I say this to myself every night, merely to rock myself into yet another restless sleep.
Maybe tonight will be different… maybe I will finally find you.