|A Suit of Armor|
classic story tale

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     The trees bents at natures will, all the leaves creating a rhythmic cacophany of music — music no man could hear, for their ears were covered by the stench of inhumanity.

The stomping of hooves shook the ground, destroying the leaves that littered the forest's floor. As if alarmed the very presence, the wind blew harder, rain pelting down at the soldier. He was clad in rags, barely hanging onto his skinny figure. Dirtied and bloody, his body wobbled on the back of the fierce beast — Whim, was the horses name.

The ground seemed to rumble underneath the soldiers steed, and his once sleep laden posture became rigid.

With wide eyes, he felt as if the Gods fury was being unleashed unto him.

Whim's hooves pounded fretfully into the soft soil, his body bucking as lightning struck the ground before him. The soldier could barely see through the darkness caused by grey clouds. Gusts of wind blew back unto the soldiers face as Whim gave a neigh of fright.

“Slow down!” he called to the horse.

Whim ignored his masters plea and gave a last buck. The soldier landed on the cold dirt as his horse tramped away - his loud coos echoing distantly in the wind. Rain swirled around him, pelting and blinded the poor man. His limbs froze and slowly the only senses he had left was touch and hearing. He felt the grimy mud beneath him. The sky growled and shouted at the soldier, who merely resigned himself to the sweet embrace of death.

From his soon to be grave, he pulled out something from his pocket, and smiled at it.

Clutched to his chest was his own beating heart.

—

MUHAHAHAHAH!