"The Warrior"

The old soldier walks, slowly, along the worn and well-traveled road. He proceeds with caution, with bent back, labored breath, and uneasy steps, on legs that threaten to topple Him at any given moment......

To look at Him, now, one would have never guessed that He was once a mighty warrior....A fierce, and unrelenting, berserker.....And master of all who dared stood before Him....

The mere mention of His name would strike fear in even the stoutest of hearts and cause women to tremble in their petticoats.....The doors of Valhalla, themselves, opened wide, as if expecting His arrival into it's hallowed halls at any given moment.......

Kings, and heads of state had turned to Him as a last resort....knowing that He--and only, He--could get the job done...As He sallied forth into battle atop a white horse, it inspired the men under His charge to forget about trivial things--such as death--and cloak themselves in valor as they joined into the fray with diligence....bearing a flag of death and desolation.....

Oh, how he could still smell the wanton flesh of some young and unwilling peasant girl in his nostrils....He could almost see her warm, and supple body, silhouetted, against the sun after he had ripped her clothes from her.... He chuckled to himself as the memory of her unheeded cries for Him to "stop" still echoed into his leathery ears...

Tears fell from His eyes, and a lump formed in His throat, as He remembered how town after town fell--like a house of cards--beneath his might....."No mercy for the weak and victory to the strong" was His battle cry. Trumpets blared throughout the land proclaiming his prowess in dispatching anyone who dared challenge Him.....

But, that was eons ago...

Now, there were no more towns to conquer.....No more dragons to slay... No longer did kings pin meaningless medals upon His chest....No longer could he please the wenches like He used to.....No longer could He hear the sound of trumpet, for, He had lost His hearing many years, hence....

All of it: GONE.....

Time had marched on and left Him behind....A relic of an age that had long, since, passed....Dust in the bottom of an hour glass....A scant memory in the minds of men older than himself.....The last, living, dinosaur walking the earth.....

As he walked past the village graveyard, He could hear the shrill voices of those that had gone on before, beckoning, out to Him...Like the song of the sirens, they called out...Echoing, inside His feeble mind.... begging for Him to join them.... to retreat...To lay down His sword and be at rest....

And, rest, He finally did.....

They buried Him, sword on chest, under an evergreen by the side of a hill, and on His gravestone they carved His name in big letters:

"UNCLE SAM"

The Watcher
P.S. Me and the Warrior Queen are still on the righteous path.....