Here is a small excerpt from my story. More details and full story is found inside the app.
-"The young guard jumped off the top of the roof in a dashing fashion, and a speedy landing on one knee, on the grass. The large man , with his flagpole, his shield, jumping off one of the towers, into the rain, and sliding in his boots, with the speargun already loaded, on his legs. The other man , with his spear, charging bravely, through the hard ground. And the archer , with his flaming arrows, shooting down from the top of the castle, with his bow.This is a story of two men. One is a famous king, a beautiful, strong man who never grew old, a truly ideal hero.
the other is a squire, romantic and beautiful, brilliant and shining like the sun, but not starlike in wisdom. and, of course, he desires
the most beautiful princess of the kingdom.
Of course, there is also a girl who is a little like the squire.
That girl is going to lose everything, but she is trying so that she does not have to lose everything, and most importantly she is trying
not to lose the only thing she has left – and that's her courage.
Zark gazed resolutely into the eyes of the dragon. A curious hissing sound escaped from the dragon's maw. Zark's ax was heavy in his hands. A small shiver ran down his spine. He had never stood before such a mighty creature and had to fight the urge to turn and flee for his life. The dragon loomed over Zark, spitting fire at his feet. Zark swayed to the left, avoiding the flame. The dragon reared back upon his hind legs, preparing to strike.
Zark took his chance. He lunged at the dragon, burying his ax deep in the monster's leg.“Would you like to leave?” My voice cracked. The scene in the doorway was too much to bear, too much I had witnessed too many times before. He was a beautiful man, truly. Yet something in his eyes captivated me, to go against myself. To want to stay. I have always been brave. He always wanted me to be brave …
But it wasn’t bravery he wanted when he said to me, “Stay.” Standing in his room, I hesitated to say anything. I was so scared. I felt a little nauseated; there was a sickening throbbing in my head. I am no coward, but this had to be something else.
My friend turned his head from the slavering creature that ruined her life, and smiled at me. These moments were not my place. I’d only come to ease her pain.
She took his hand, a beautiful, long, slender hand, and pressed it against her chest. There was a tear running down her cheek, as he died. Why did her eyes grab hold of mine? Why did she look at me? There was something in it. Hope, or maybe a plea for help. Not by herself, but for all the others. A fear of the next moment: death.
A noble daughter; a daughter of mercy; a young lady who was beloved; a princess with a voice as sweet as a song; a princess who was taken away from the world. She was taken away from me. And I was left on the very that happened. Why was I left? What was it that made me stay, to witness such a sight? A young girl who was took away from the world.
A sudden feeling of loss filled me, more than ever before. I wanted to run away. I did not want to see any more. There was no one else to look at me. There was no one to talk to me. There was no one to call my own.
