_Eshwar_

A tragedy...
An abrupt departure...
Death...
And rebirth.

Pain, rage, struggle, and blood honed a sword.
A sword sharp enough to sever through reality and reveal what lies beyond.

It unveiled something,
Or rather, someone, incomprehensible and unprecedented....
A being who seems to weave the threads of fate.

Does he truly exist, or is he merely a manifestation of another's will?
If he does exist, what purpose does he serve?
Is there really a purpose, or is it just another will imposed upon him?
If it is another's will, can he defy it?
Can he turn his sword against his creator,
A being who literally writes his reality?

Or will he be consumed by the abyss from which his power flows,
Forever lost in the shifting void of his own making?

The Blind Swordsman.

After touching his bodily limits, he laid huffing and puffing while gasping for breath before he closed his mouth and breath only trough his nostrils.

He rested his feet flat on the ground while he spread his arms apart as he controlled his breathing.

THUMP-! THUMP-! THUMP-! THUMP-! THUMP.....

Hearing his roaring heartbeat, he focused on it to sync his breathing with his heartbeat, while trying to ignore his precipitation trickling down from his hair.

Every time he exhaled, a faint huff sounded within the room for a few minutes before Ken drifted off to sleep on the cold ground.

Seating across each other on the dining, Ken's mother, Florence, and father, Nash, had their heads hung low while pondering over different things, concerning a single young boy.

A Child's Tantrum (2)