Still Breathing In The Town
Stories similar to this that you might like too.
The town was still breathing. It had been a long time since it’d last breathed, but the air in its lungs felt good and warm to him as he walked through it. He could feel his heart beating faster than usual; not from fear or excitement—he wasn’t afraid of anything anymore—but just because this place held so many memories for him now that they were all coming back at once.
Memories of when everything seemed possible before the world turned against them and made their lives impossible. Before everyone started dying around them one by one until there was no one left except him.
He didn’t know how much longer he would be able to keep walking like this without getting tired. His body ached with every step, especially where his ribs hurt most. But even if he did get too exhausted to continue on, he knew exactly what he needed to do next: find someone who looked strong enough to help carry him out of here.
Someone who wouldn’t ask questions about why he couldn’t walk himself. And then maybe after that…maybe after that he could finally rest. Maybe sleep forever. Or die peacefully knowing that he hadn’t failed anyone else again.
But first things first. First he had to make sure nobody followed him into the town. That meant finding someplace safe to hide while he waited for nightfall. Somewhere hidden away behind walls thick enough to stop any arrows shot at him from outside. A place where people might think twice before trying to come inside looking for trouble.
Where he could wait for the right moment to strike. Then he would kill whoever came along and take whatever supplies they happened to have to lie around. After that, he would leave the bodies somewhere far off the beaten path, hopefully deep within the woods beyond the edge of town. No one would ever see them again. They’d never know what became of those poor souls.
And then, finally, he would go home. Back to his family’s farmhouse, where he belonged. Home sweet home.
It took him several hours to reach the outskirts of the village. By then, he was already feeling weak and dizzy, but he kept going anyway. There weren’t very many places to hide in these parts, which probably explained why the villagers hadn’t bothered building more houses yet.
Still, he managed to find an old barn tucked away between two trees near the center of town. It stood alone among the other buildings, surrounded by fields full of crops that hadn’t been planted yet. If he remembered correctly, this particular field used to belong to a farmer named William.
Not that he cared about such trivial details anymore. All that mattered was that it offered plenty of covers for him to sit down and catch his breath.
As soon as he stepped inside, he heard something rustling nearby. Something big. Whatever it was, it sounded angry. Probably another animal prowling around for food. He hoped it would stay put long enough for him to finish resting up. Once he got moving again, he should be able to escape unnoticed. As long as he stayed quiet, no one would hear him over the sound of the wind blowing through the grasses.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered under his breath. “Please don’t let me wake up.”
Then he closed his eyes and tried to fall asleep.
***
A few minutes later, he opened his eyes again. This time he saw a man standing directly across from him. Taller than average, broad-shouldered, with dark hair tied back in a ponytail. He wore black leather armor covered in dirt and bloodstains and carried a sword strapped to his hip.
What are you doing here? the stranger asked. You shouldn’t be alive. I thought we killed all of your kind.
The voice startled him awake. For a second he forgot where he was. What he was supposed to do. Who he was supposed to kill?
You’re wrong, he said. We aren’t all dead. Just most of us.
The man frowned. Most of whom?
Most of my friends. My family. Everyone else is gone.
His words sent chills running down the stranger’s spine. How can that possibly be true?
Because they died fighting. Because they fought hard enough to survive.
The stranger shook his head slowly. No. That isn’t possible. Your kind always dies easily. Always.
No, he insisted. Not this time.
Why not? Why won’t they die?
They’ve lost hope. Their hearts have stopped beating. They’re waiting for death to claim them.
That doesn’t make sense.
Maybe it does. Maybe that’s what happens when you lose everything. When nothing matters anymore.
When you realize that life has become meaningless.
Yes. Exactly. Now tell me—how did you manage to live so long?
He smiled sadly. The same way everyone else survived. With courage. Sacrifice. Hope.
Hope? Are there still people left who believes in that?
Of course. Even now, thousands of miles away, men and women fight against the darkness. In their own ways, they try to protect the world from the monsters hiding beneath its surface.
So you were one of them once. One of the good guys. But then you changed sides. Betrayed your fellow warriors. Joined forces with the enemy.
Not exactly.
How much clearer must he be?
Fine. Let’s say you joined the side of evil instead. Would that change anything?
Everything. Everything!
If you really want to understand how I ended up like this, just look at yourself. Look at the monster you turned into.
There was only one thing he wanted to ask: Do you remember me?
Do you even care if I do or not?
For a moment, the stranger didn’t answer. Then he sighed heavily. Yes, he replied. Of course, I do.
But that wasn’t quite right either. He had never met the boy before today. Never spoke to him. And yet somehow, deep within his heart, he knew he’d seen him somewhere before. Seen him on battlefields far too many times. Saw him lying wounded and bleeding out while his comrades watched helplessly. Had witnessed countless acts of cruelty and violence committed by those who claimed to be his allies.
And yet…he couldn’t help but feel a strange connection to him. A kinship. An understanding.
This is crazy, he told himself. Don’t get involved. Stay hidden. Keep moving.
But he found it impossible to resist. Impossible to turn away. So he sat down next to the young man and stared straight ahead.
Tell me, he said softly. Tell me about the day you decided to join the army. To take up arms against your own kind.
The soldier hesitated. It took him a minute to find the words.
It started off as an accident.
We were traveling together. On our way home after a mission. Our unit was ambushed. By orcs.
Orcs? he repeated. Is that what you call them?
Yeah. Orcs. Like the ones in Lord of the Rings.
The orcish leader ordered us to surrender. If we refused, he threatened to kill every last one of us.
My friend and I weren’t going to give in without a fight. We charged forward, trying to break through the line. But the soldiers kept shooting arrows at us. Some hit us. Others missed completely.
One arrow landed in my leg. Another pierced my chest. Both wounds hurt terribly. More than anything, though, I felt sick. Weak. As if something inside me was dying.
I fell to my knees. Cried out loudly. Told me over and over again that I would never forgive anyone who shot me. That no matter what happened, I wouldn’t rest until I got revenge.
Then suddenly, someone grabbed my arm. Pulled me back.
“Don’t move,” he whispered. “Stay quiet.”
A few seconds later, another person appeared behind me. This time she was holding a knife. She cut open my shirt. Wound around the shaft of the arrow sticking out of my body.
She pulled it free. Pressed her hand against the wound. Held it there for several minutes. Finally, the pain faded away.
Afterward, she wrapped some bandages around my torso. Gave me water to drink. Helped me stand up.
By then, most of the other soldiers had already fled. Only a handful remained. All of them looked terrified. Terrified of the orcs. Afraid of what might happen to them.
You know, the woman continued quietly, I’m surprised you made it this far. You should have been dead hours ago.
Her voice sounded familiar to the soldier. But he couldn’t place where he’d heard it before. Couldn’t recall ever meeting her.
No, he answered honestly. I don’t think I’ve ever met you.
That’s okay, she replied. Just pretend you haven’t.
They stayed silent for a while longer. Listening to the sounds of battle all around them. Trying to make sense of what was happening. Wondered whether they could survive.
Eventually, the soldier asked: How did you end up here? Why are you fighting alongside these monsters?
Because I chose to. Because I needed to prove myself. To show everyone else that I can still be useful. That I’m strong enough to keep doing whatever needs to be done.
He paused. For a long time. The silence stretched on so long that the soldier began to wonder if the woman had fallen asleep.
Finally, however, she spoke again.
What does that mean?
Nothing. Nothing at all.
Just tell me why you’re helping them. What makes you different from the others?
I guess I just grew tired of being alone. Of always having to watch my back. Always worrying about getting killed.
So you joined their side because you thought it would be safer?
Yes.
Why?
I don’t really understand myself. Maybe I’m afraid of death. Afraid of losing everything.
Maybe you want to die with honor. With dignity.
Not exactly.
How about love?
Love doesn’t exist anymore. Not like it used to. People aren’t meant to live forever. They shouldn’t try to defy nature.
Do you believe in God?
Of course not.
Well, do you believe in yourself? In your ability to overcome any obstacle?
Sometimes.
Are you sure?
Absolutely.
Good. Then let’s go. Let’s finish this war once and for all.
Together.
***
The soldier stood up. He glanced toward his companion. Saw how pale he was. How weak. And knew instantly that the young man wasn’t going to make it much farther.
Still, he didn’t say anything. Didn’t offer to help. Instead, he walked past the wounded warrior. Stopped by a nearby tree. Grabbed hold of its trunk. Braced himself. Prepared to jump into action.
But when he saw the enemy soldiers closing in, he froze. His heart skipped a beat. A cold sweat broke out across his forehead.
For a moment, he wondered if maybe he hadn’t been right. If perhaps he was wrong about the whole thing. About what he wanted to accomplish.
And then, as one of the orc warriors drew closer, the soldier realized that he’d misjudged things after all. That he truly had nothing left to lose. No reason to hesitate or second-guess himself.
He jumped off the branch. Drove his sword deep into the creature’s stomach. Slashed down hard. Cut him cleanly in half.
As soon as the first monster went down, the remaining soldiers turned their tail and ran. Left the battlefield entirely. Disappeared into the forest. Never to return.
When the last of them disappeared, the soldier lowered his weapon. Sat down next to the corpse. Looked at the blood dripping from the blade. Smelled the stench of death.
Tasted the metallic tang of iron.
It took several minutes for the adrenaline rush to fade. Several more for the soldier to calm down. Finally, though, he managed to get control of himself.
The End