THE DAY I DIED

I’d been a military man all my life. Not as active as I once was, but I still had my usefulness. A lifetime of experience that I passed on to the newer generation. I’d seen action in four wars, under two rulers, across three continents. I knew what it was like to defend our home when enemies were at the gates and how to storm theirs when the time came.

I spent my days in the barracks, running over battle strategies with the young soldiers. We discussed weak points in the capital’s defenses, counterattacks, and all the mistakes I had seen commanders make over the years. They ranked me as a commander of the First Legion, which earned me respect among the lower ranks, if not always among my peers. Age is a fickle thing.

I would look Kaleb up, Benack seemed so proud, and he was a good man. A little kindness, a word in an ear, can make all the difference to some people’s lives. If they considered him for promotion, he must have qualities and skills needed for such a position. A recommendation from a commander will distinguish him out.

As I turned the third corner of the back alley streets leading to the barracks, I could see two men holding another, one in each of his arms, pinning him up against the rear wall of a bakery. Another much taller man stood in front, his palm around his victim’s neck, his face pressed against the others. The tall man pushed his hand forward, thrusting the confined man’s head backward. It ricocheted off the wall and snapped back as if on a coiled spring. The tall man pulled his fist back, ready to strike.

Instinct kicked in. Three against one was bad enough, but restraining a man while he was beaten? That was cowardice.

“Hey there! Everything alright?” I called out, keeping my tone as calm as I could. “No need for this. I’m sure we can work something out.”

The tall man turned to face me. He was taller than any man I’d ever seen, a full head above me, and I wasn’t small. His build was heavy, his arms covered in strange markings—raised beads of scar tissue running across his skin like a twisted design. He had a face like a hammer, with cold, dead eyes that seemed to size me up.

“Beat it old timer, this doesn’t concern you.” He retorted, spitting on the floor and shifting back to his victim.

“I’m afraid I can’t do that, son.” I stepped closer, though my heart pounded in my chest. “Why don’t we settle this peacefully, like men?”

Not my wisest words. I knew it as soon as they left my mouth.

“Like men, you say?” The tall man’s grin twisted into something more dangerous. “Then let’s see what you’re made of, old-timer.”

He dropped his victim’s arm and turned fully toward me, raising his fists, shoulders rolling like a crater wolf about to pounce. His heavy boots cracked against the cobblestones as he advanced.

This was a fight I couldn’t win, and I knew it. Even in my youth, taking on a brute like this would’ve been a challenge. But I wasn’t helpless.

As the man neared, my grip tightened around my cane. Timing was everything—I’d get one shot. When he was close enough, I saw my opening. He shifted his right shoulder back, winding up for a punch.

I ducked low, knees cracking, and swung my cane with all the strength I had left. It struck him square in the ribs, a sickening crack echoing in the alley as bones broke. He flew back, the wind knocked out of him, and hit the ground hard. His head smacked against the cobbles, blood pooling behind him.

I ducked down, my knees cracking under the quick action, I thrust the handle of my cane upwards with all my strength just as the he swung an arching punch at where my head had just been. The head of the cane struck true in the center of his rib cage.a sickening crack echoing in the alley as bones broke.

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But something was wrong. A sharp pain shot up my arm. I looked down, and my wrist hung limp. The crack hadn’t come from his ribs—it had come from me. The force of the strike had shattered the bones in my lower arm.

My strike had done some damage to the tall man as well. His forward movement and my strike had knocked the wind from him and he went flying backwards, his head impacting the cobbled floor. He lay motionless as a small pool of blood formed at the back of his head.

Before I could gather myself, one of the other two men—shorter, rounder—charged at me, rage etched on his face.

“Why you!” He shouted

He was faster than I’d expected, and my cane had rolled out of reach. My only ally was timing. I ducked again, bracing myself as he lunged, his hands outstretched. At the last second, I dipped my shoulder and pushed up with all the weight I could muster, sending him tumbling over me. He hit the ground with a bone-jarring thud, rolling several feet before stopping in a tangled heap.

A scream of pain escaped my lips as my shoulder popped out of place, my body finally betraying me My right leg gave way from all the strain and I fell to my knee. My breathing was heavy as I tried to catch my breath. There’s one left, I thought. Sucking in a deep breath through gritted teeth, I raised myself back up. Grabbing a fist size stone that had loosened from the floor during the commotion.

The third man stood there, frozen in shock. He hadn’t expected a frail old man to take down two of his friends. But I didn’t give him time to react. Gritting my teeth, I hurled the stone with my left hand, and it struck him in the temple. He dropped like a sack of grain, and his grip on the other man finally loosened

I hadn’t come out of the altercation unscathed, my right wrist shattered, and I could barely stand, but glancing at the three men motionless on the floor, I felt satisfaction, I still had some fight left in me. Not too bad for an old man.

Panting and wheezing, I limped over to the man they’d been holding against the wall. He was short, skinny, his long silver hair hanging in disarray down his back. He looked at me with wide, astonished eyes, still shaking from the ordeal.

“You alright, son?” I asked, though ‘son’ felt like the wrong word. He could’ve been older than me. What’s your name?

The man straightened himself, the fear from his face melting away. “I’m fine, thank you.” His voice was calm, composed—too composed. “The name’s Trendal.”

I opened my mouth to respond, but then it hit me—a sharp pain like fire ripping through my side. I gasped, blood pooling in my mouth, its warmth choking me. I turned my head to see the tall man—still alive, standing right behind me. His face was a mask of fury, his arm pressed against my shoulder, the other holding a bloodstained blade that had just pulled out of my side.

I stumbled backward, disbelief clouding my thoughts. I fell into Trendal’s arms, and he lowered me gently to the ground, like a father laying his child down to sleep. Thunder roared in the distance, and the rain came, pounding the streets around us.

My vision blurred. I could barely see through the rain running down my face, mixing with the blood still filling my mouth. I tried to speak, but only a garbled noise escaped. This was it. This was how it ended.

A hand brushed the rain from my eyes. Trendal looked down at me, cradling me in his arms. I could see the three attackers standing behind him, but they weren’t moving. They just stood there, motionless, looking off into the distance.

“Thank you again,” Trendal said softly. “Now rest. It will be over soon.”

I tried to fight the dizziness, tried to make sense of it all. Why was he thanking me? Why were they just standing there?

I tried to say something, but all that came was more blood. My body went limp, the world dimming. Darkness closed in around me.

“It has started, I will send him on his way” I could hear a voice say. As a feeling of dread ran through my mind. I’d always thought of dying as something noble. An act of bravery even, laying down your life for honor, for justice, for the king. This, however, felt like none of that, and I don’t mind saying that I was scared

I drifted in the void, no pain, no sensation. I wasn’t breathing, my chest was still—no longer rising and falling in the steady rhythm of life. For seventy winters, it has kept me going. Now, it lay silent. The now strangeness of stillness, foreign and frightening. I was dead and trapped inside my mind.

The strangeness of stillness terrified me. Was this death? Trapped in darkness, unable to see, speak, or move? The voices around me grew faint as explosions filled the void, drowning out all other sounds. Was this my eternity?

Images of my life flickered in my mind, playing like distant memories as the cacophony of noise swallowed me whole