David
Dear Dais,
As I was writing some new songs for my band, your named randomly popped into my head. I guess it was the appropriate time to write this letter.
When I first met you, I didn't have a very high opinion of you. Granted, a person that hangs upside down from a spider web doesn't exactly fit into the "normal" category.
But what really changed my perception of you was the day that we were at weapons practicing. You challenged me to what you called a "game of skill." And after I yanked the weapon out of your hand, you told me the most disturbing thing: I would give the United States the Gold Medal in gymnastics.
The night before the competition, I was worried. I considered doing poorly just so your prediction wouldn't come true. But then I realized that if I didn't do my best, my coach and my teammates would start asking questions. I think that was the first night I ever used foul language.
So I competed. And as you predicted, I won the Gold Medal for my team. But that really bothered me. As I received my medal, I talked one of my teammates, Shane, into watching me do a repeat of my jump on the vault. After everyone left, we walked back to the gymnastics complex, and Shane watched me do my jump. The first time I did okay, but I didn't repeat the winning jump. The second time I did okay, but I still didn't repeat the winning jump.
That was when I got worried. I was afraid that you had manipulated the outcome of the gymnastics competition just so I could win. Now don't get me wrong, I've always wanted to win the Gold Medal, but I've always wanted to win with my own hard work and practice, not with assistance of someone who hangs upside down on spider webs and uses illusions.
So I tried a third time. I pulled my concentration together and focused. It was that third time that I repeated the winning jump.
That was when I got scared. You knew; you knew I had it in me all along; you were just trying to bring out my hidden potential. That frightened me more than I could ever imagine, but I kept that fear to myself. When we met at the final battle, my illusions against yours, I won; it wasn't easy, but I won. I remember the words you spoke after your defeat, "You had it in you all the time, my Warrior of Summer. All I had to do was make sure that you brought it out. I am honored to know that I have done my duty."
Now that I think about it, even if it was an order from your boss, or something you did out of your own free will, you changed me. I now have more confidence in myself and in my abilities thanks to you. If you were acting on orders, then all I can say is: you did your job. If this was something every armor bearer does when he or she finds the heir to his or her armor: then you did what was required of you.
When I got back to San Francisco, I hooked up with my band and began writing new songs. The song I'm working on is dedicated you Dais. I guess you can say it's the least I can do to thank you. Thanks, you crazy, six-legged whack job.
David Anderson
Dear Dais,
As I was writing some new songs for my band, your named randomly popped into my head. I guess it was the appropriate time to write this letter.
When I first met you, I didn't have a very high opinion of you. Granted, a person that hangs upside down from a spider web doesn't exactly fit into the "normal" category.
But what really changed my perception of you was the day that we were at weapons practicing. You challenged me to what you called a "game of skill." And after I yanked the weapon out of your hand, you told me the most disturbing thing: I would give the United States the Gold Medal in gymnastics.
The night before the competition, I was worried. I considered doing poorly just so your prediction wouldn't come true. But then I realized that if I didn't do my best, my coach and my teammates would start asking questions. I think that was the first night I ever used foul language.
So I competed. And as you predicted, I won the Gold Medal for my team. But that really bothered me. As I received my medal, I talked one of my teammates, Shane, into watching me do a repeat of my jump on the vault. After everyone left, we walked back to the gymnastics complex, and Shane watched me do my jump. The first time I did okay, but I didn't repeat the winning jump. The second time I did okay, but I still didn't repeat the winning jump.
That was when I got worried. I was afraid that you had manipulated the outcome of the gymnastics competition just so I could win. Now don't get me wrong, I've always wanted to win the Gold Medal, but I've always wanted to win with my own hard work and practice, not with assistance of someone who hangs upside down on spider webs and uses illusions.
So I tried a third time. I pulled my concentration together and focused. It was that third time that I repeated the winning jump.
That was when I got scared. You knew; you knew I had it in me all along; you were just trying to bring out my hidden potential. That frightened me more than I could ever imagine, but I kept that fear to myself. When we met at the final battle, my illusions against yours, I won; it wasn't easy, but I won. I remember the words you spoke after your defeat, "You had it in you all the time, my Warrior of Summer. All I had to do was make sure that you brought it out. I am honored to know that I have done my duty."
Now that I think about it, even if it was an order from your boss, or something you did out of your own free will, you changed me. I now have more confidence in myself and in my abilities thanks to you. If you were acting on orders, then all I can say is: you did your job. If this was something every armor bearer does when he or she finds the heir to his or her armor: then you did what was required of you.
When I got back to San Francisco, I hooked up with my band and began writing new songs. The song I'm working on is dedicated you Dais. I guess you can say it's the least I can do to thank you. Thanks, you crazy, six-legged whack job.
David Anderson
