- Write about something ugly–war, fear, hate, or cruelty–but find the beauty (silver lining) in it
Til Valhal
With the sound of metals clashing against each other, I fall to the ground, eyes wide open. I watch as my brothers and sisters combat their adversaries, not a single ounce of fear in them. My clothes are stained red, and the colors around me fade slowly. Blood drips off of my axe as it also gushes out of my chest. I've fallen in battle, but not after taking my fair share of English with me. The sun shines bright in the sky, its rays falling down upon the carnage below. I long for my family in my last fading moments. Will they remember me as a hero? Or will they look down upon me for falling so quickly? My sons will grow up without a father. I can only hope they become great men. My wife will be a widow, but I do not fear for her safety. She is capable enough to defend our family. I turn my head slightly as another body falls next to me. The whistling sound of arrows are among the last sounds I hear. A quick glance down at my lower body shows me that one has buried itself in my thigh. If I had not lost almost all feeling in my body, it would have hurt. The air in my lungs escapes my body quickly as I let out my dying breath. An attempt to call for the great wanderer is halted by my inability to move my lips. My last sight is of a woman with a winged helmet approaching me, and then darkness. I pass ironically more at peace than ever before, as I am carried away from the grassy field which my body lies. My friends and family must be jealous of me, for I have been accepted into his great hall.
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