Dark surreal tales: Silent pray
In black he stands, his armor hidden, A shadow on the battlefield. No one can see his face, his features, Only the glint of his golden shield.
A cross hangs from his neck, a symbol Of his brotherhood, his faith. The front of his helmet is filigreed, A small touch of gold on his wraith.
He stands silent, eyes closed, Preparing for the combat to come. He knows that his faith will protect him, That his brotherhood will never desert him.
He stands for justice, for honor, For the right of all to be free. He is a knight, a warrior, A defender of the weak and the weary.
He stands there for a long time, Meditating on the coming battle. He thinks of all the lives that will be lost, All the pain and suffering that will be caused.
He knows that he must fight, That he must do his duty. But he also knows that he may not survive. He may die on the battlefield, Just like so many others before him.
But he accepts this possibility. He knows that it is the price of freedom. He knows that it is the price of honor.
He opens his eyes and looks up. He sees the enemy army approaching. They are a vast horde, Numbering in the thousands.
The knight knows that he is outnumbered, But he does not fear. He knows that he has the strength of his faith, The strength of his brotherhood.
He raises his sword and shield. He takes a deep breath. He is ready for battle.
The enemy army charges. The knight meets them head-on. He swings his sword, cutting down one enemy after another. He is a blur of motion, a whirlwind of death.
The enemy army is no match for him. They are quickly defeated. The knight stands victorious, The last man standing.
He has saved the day, Defended the innocent, Upheld the ideals of justice and honor. He is a true knight, A hero in the truest sense of the word.
