For the King

by ZacharyWGilbert

My body is broken.  Arrows flew like a blackened swarm of rain, as if 1,000 dragon’s teeth were pulled, ground sharp, and fixed to a shaft that would fly swift.  The sudden bite of a well placed arrow is like being punched by a knife.  The first hit my shoulder.  It struck so hard it broke through my armor.  Bits of my own metal when deep into my muscle and bone along with that sharp arrow.   I saw the hot read of my own blood spray the splintered wood of my impalement.  I tried to grab it, to break it off, to keep fighting along side the other soldiers, but it was excruciating.  My lungs found the courage to yell, “For the king!”  but the next wave of arrows found us all.  One found my head.  The sound of the bone in the skull cracking, is a unique sound, especially when heard from inside the head.  With a bright flash behind my eyes I was dead.  The yelling of soldiers, the warmth of the sun, the feel of dirt and mud on my skin, was all gone in an instant.  I never felt the impact of my body hitting the ground.

Dying perhaps, is best explained like falling asleep, and never waking up.  There I was, dreaming, or existing in the afterlife.  Surrounding were a blur, there was just a stone bench, in a park.  I sat down, and noticed a young boy playing with a puppy.  He looked at me and the dog ran off.

“Where are your parents?”

“Not here yet, My name is Sammy!”

“Pleased to meet you Sammy.”

“Your heads got blood.”

“Oh yeah, I was a soldier in a great war, the King asked me to take the front lines, and win the battle, but I was killed.  Took an arrow right in the head.”

“Does it hurt?”

“No, it doesn’t I was proud to die, because I was fighting for my country,my King, and my beautiful wife Bathsheba…”

“Wow, that’s my Momma’s name, and my dad was a King too!”

 

Copyright © 2017 Zachary W Gilbert

 

 

 

Darkness

by ZacharyWGilbert

Who is it, that consumes the living?  Darkness, that invisible specter that surrounds all things living, can never satisfy his insatiable appetite.  Hearts flutter and die, the blood within dries.  Flesh looses it warmth, and surrenders silently to the cold.  Darkness, has once again left fang holes where he has drank the goblet of life out of another.  His red eyes glow from empty sockets.  The swirl of gray smoke makes his eyebrows.  In his throat an unquenchable fire burns orange like an angry volcano.  In the blackest part of night he gathers up the seeds of the lost, and plants them in his vineyard.  Their names are etched in crown of stone.  The tread of existence, will soon fray, and unravel, swallowed by an inescapable, Darkness.

 

Copyright © 2017 Zachary W Gilbert

 

 

 

Web Repair

by ZacharyWGilbert

A warm summers day, I came upon a barn spider, hanging on his web.  Morning dew clinging to the strands, glistened in the sunlight.  A grasshopper jumped into the web, and was held for a moment, but it popped itself loose.  The spider, with its spiked tan abdomen, fixed the damage.  It didn’t shout.  It didn’t pout.  It just fixed the hole.  I watched it, wondering how it could work so steady and diligently without giving up.  The tall grass nearby loosed a fury of moths.  Their white wings, silently slapped the air.  One of them found its way into the web.  It was trapped and the spider lunged for it, but it too, twisted loose.  Its flight was burden by the web fragments stuck to its wings that it fell back into the tall grass.   Like before, the barn spider repaired the damage, in calm, smooth movements.  After a time, the web was repaired, and the spider returned to his leaf where he rested and waited.   A fat house fly, buzzed and bounced in the air, and it too found its way to the waiting web.  It struck and made the entire thing bounce, like an obese man falling on a trampoline.   The fly tried to escape.  It buzzed and writhed, but it was stuck.  The spider was soon upon it, and wrapped it up in a bulging tomb of web.   As the spider feasted, I admired its calm tenacious resolve, reminding me, that if I keep at it, one day, I too may be fed.

Copyright © 2017 Zachary W Gilbert