This is the beginning of a series of ‘quick steps’. These posts will be fast, free writing. Thinking of whatever comes to mind, and immediately typing with no editing. I would be glad to hear your comments. Here’s the first:

I’m trying to survive.

The gravel beneath my feet crunches and shifts as I try to hold firm.

How did I find my self in this position?

The bite of the blade clips my shoulder, taking a lump of me with it.

I struggle with the concept of killing this man before me, as I raise my blade and bring it down.

I kill any hesitation to not bring death, and I strike deep.

Blood spurts, eyes deaden, limbs fall weak.

Gazing down at the dead-man, I wonder what it is I’m doing.


My voice carries faintly, but not a peep answers in this beautiful meadow.

No one hears me.

I breath deep, and feel my jaw loosen.

Hot tears burn my eyes, as my body shakes.

Why, oh why?

I do not feel the bite of the rod in my back, as it strikes.

For I am already dead.