A LetterAs I write this letter, I cannot help but think of the time which is to be wasted on an endeavor to elaborately bring to life just the way I've felt about you and our times together. You will never see the passion in my eyes or the sorrow in my voice as it comes to it's ending. Because, no matter how this letter may come across as being directed towards you, it is, in the end, more for me. To breath life into a world left decaying as I spend more of my time in lament. You may recall these events but then again, you may not. The point to the matter is that I remember these events quite vividly and perhaps it is part of the healing process that I channel them to paper.On a Saturday afternoon during late September, the chill of autumn was dangerously approaching an early winter, or so such claims are made each year around this time. I had taken my sketchbook, an easel, and a small assortment of pastels, mostly of cool earthen tones, to Willowcrest Park because they were known for t
A Ronin's GiftBefore the village militia crumbled under the experienced raiders and the houses themselves were set ablaze, there was the pure fear I felt as a firm hand covered my mouth, awakening me from my nightly horror. The phantasm of my past was quickly falling to the very real threat of the present. The raid had not yet begun but I was an early prize. As he took me by the wrist, I grabbed my doll, the last possession of my previous life. Some would say it's foolish for a seventeen year old girl to cling to such a childish item but within the same breath, they would call sleeping outside the village, even if one is without home, a foolish act as well. But on this night, the fools and the wise stand on even ground as wolves descend upon the village.My captor forced me to my knees and made me watch as several men began to surround the single guard at the village entrance. They stuck to the shadows of the trees as the guard turned his back on the forest just long enough a sword to pierce h
An Oni Unto ItselfThe dolls eyes continued to stare at me, holding both innocence and accusations. The porcelain face held obvious outsider influence but somehow, this foreign trinket seemed more normal in the Japan of today than the burned remains of the nameless village that once stood here, on the outskirts of Kumamoto. Masterless and disgraced, I've wandered back to an important part of my own past without even wondering why. In my own mind, I can still hear the cries of battles that lasted six long weeks but it's been that way for years. Perhaps this journey was to lead to some form of redemption but if it can be found, it leaves no trace, except for this doll.I searched for several hours, to find some clues of what had happened within the burned ruins. If this village had grown from the time of my last visit, it was difficult to tell. The village itself was only a few dozen small structures. Its main advantage still remained the view down the grassy valley towards Kumamoto. One main road
Going Out A ChampionNothing is worse than being termed "the underdog." I could stand a term like contender, challenger, or even amateur. All of those names at least signify some form of dignity. But here I was, after spending the past 18 months fighting through the various ranks, standing toe to toe with a bred champion, and underdog. As if being a dog wasn't low enough, I'm under that. "We're going to check your calve servos now, David." The familiar hum began to rise in intensity as the armor began to compress on my calves. The armor always felt restrictive but when the armor is fully powered up, it enhances the bodies physical strength tenfold. But like the drawstring on a compound bow, it requires a level of strength to pull the tension servos back before springing them forward. In a way, each muscle grouping is like an arrow, pulling back on that bow, ready to snag forward. It makes each motion a more complicated matter of applied physical strength than the natu
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