Benjamin
was seven years old when his father gave him the sword. His father had said “Son
you’ll fight three battles in your life with this blade. One of those battles
you will lose.” A year later his father had died and Benjamin realized that his
father had lost his own inner battle.
Now Benjamin was twenty years old and had already won two battles with the same blade his father had given him. He was a soldier in an army of rag tag rebels who planned to take down the King, who had been dead for almost three years now. Benjamin’s Sword was the only sword able to kill the Zombie King.
Now Benjamin was twenty years old and had already won two battles with the same blade his father had given him. He was a soldier in an army of rag tag rebels who planned to take down the King, who had been dead for almost three years now. Benjamin’s Sword was the only sword able to kill the Zombie King.
The Rebellion was gathered in the
court of the run down Kingdom. They readied their weapons for the oncoming attack.
Benjamin stood front and center and all the rebels looked up to him like his
was the leader of the group. They could hear the King’s undead army stirring in
castle ahead of them. Bridget, one of
the few girls in the rebellion, pushed her way to the front of the line.
“Benjamin Sir.” She said loudly, stepping closer to him.
“There’s not many of us Sir. The last battle wiped half of our men out. I don’t think we can win this one Sir.” She confessed. Benjamin turned to her with a sad look in his eyes.
“Bridget.” He said.
“Yes sir?” She asked.
“This is my third battle with this blade. I am not meant to win.” He said. Before Bridget could ask him what he meant by that, the King’s zombie soldiers bust through the iron gates. They charged ahead fast and unyielding. The Rebellion waited for Benjamin’s orders, their weapons ready.
“CHARGE!” Benjamin yelled with his sword high in his hand.
The Two armies blended together in a massacre of red. The number of fatalities on both sides began to grow. Benjamin slashed his way through the undead army. The zombies turned to ash at the mere scrape of his blade. He pushed his way through, ready to fight the Zombie King. Benjamin was ready to die. He had made it to the iron gates, killing every undead soldier that got in his way.
They tore at him with their broken blades, with their fingernails, and even with their teeth. But Benjamin fought his way through until he reached the throne.
The Zombie King sat idly in his chair made of gold thorns. A crown made of bones sat atop his head.
When Benjamin reached the King he held his blade high and yelled.
“Father, I will fight for you and this land. If this is to be my last battle with this blade, I will try my hardest to win!” Benjamin charged at the Zombie King who now wielded a giant battle Axe.
The two clashed together in a fight to the death. The King was faster than Benjamin, slicing into his arms and legs and chest. Benjamin had lost his left hand and the blood now poured onto the cold hard ground. But he did not stop, he kept fighting. Before the King could give the final blow to him, Benjamin pierced his blade up into the Zombie Kings skull. His axe cut Benjamin down, killing him instantly. But the blade had done its job, and the Zombie King was now permanently dead and so was his army. The Battle was over.
“Benjamin Sir.” She said loudly, stepping closer to him.
“There’s not many of us Sir. The last battle wiped half of our men out. I don’t think we can win this one Sir.” She confessed. Benjamin turned to her with a sad look in his eyes.
“Bridget.” He said.
“Yes sir?” She asked.
“This is my third battle with this blade. I am not meant to win.” He said. Before Bridget could ask him what he meant by that, the King’s zombie soldiers bust through the iron gates. They charged ahead fast and unyielding. The Rebellion waited for Benjamin’s orders, their weapons ready.
“CHARGE!” Benjamin yelled with his sword high in his hand.
The Two armies blended together in a massacre of red. The number of fatalities on both sides began to grow. Benjamin slashed his way through the undead army. The zombies turned to ash at the mere scrape of his blade. He pushed his way through, ready to fight the Zombie King. Benjamin was ready to die. He had made it to the iron gates, killing every undead soldier that got in his way.
They tore at him with their broken blades, with their fingernails, and even with their teeth. But Benjamin fought his way through until he reached the throne.
The Zombie King sat idly in his chair made of gold thorns. A crown made of bones sat atop his head.
When Benjamin reached the King he held his blade high and yelled.
“Father, I will fight for you and this land. If this is to be my last battle with this blade, I will try my hardest to win!” Benjamin charged at the Zombie King who now wielded a giant battle Axe.
The two clashed together in a fight to the death. The King was faster than Benjamin, slicing into his arms and legs and chest. Benjamin had lost his left hand and the blood now poured onto the cold hard ground. But he did not stop, he kept fighting. Before the King could give the final blow to him, Benjamin pierced his blade up into the Zombie Kings skull. His axe cut Benjamin down, killing him instantly. But the blade had done its job, and the Zombie King was now permanently dead and so was his army. The Battle was over.
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