Dating : Chosen no more

He ambled his way across the street. No one paid him much attention, a bag of rags as far as they were concerned. For all intents and purposes he did resemble a beggar in search of alms.

Though if you looked closer, you could see that the hood concealed eyes that were haunting yet haunted. Eyes that cast about a piercing stare, seeking something. The shambles that cloaked him, hid his physique, for the shambles covered not a crooked form of a beggar but the lithe form of one prone to agile tasks.

As he came towards the city center, recognition flourished in his eyes. Memories came flooding, he looked back at the times.

He remembers it like yesterday.

His life as a young boy ended when he was brought to the square and he drew the sword. The town called him the Chosen One and they celebrated him. They cared not that he was but a child not more than 10 years of age! All they cared was that he had drawn the sword and he would vanquish the evil. He remembers the times when he staggered under all that expectation! The times when he cried himself to sleep, the times when he could not afford to grow up like others! The lessons and trials he was forced to endure, the lives that he had to take. Too much to bear, yet he had forged on. He toppled the darkness and he brought light. He returned the sword to its place, and he breathed a sigh of relief. Alas it was over, he could live his life now. Peace and quiet beckoned.

He was wrong!

After the darkness many others came, and the people came running towards him. It was always him, no matter what! He looked back at the times he was dragged away from his life, the loves he lost and the families he left. The times his enemies came after his loved ones, and the times he returned to a blazing house littered with beheaded bodies. The number of times he had buried his little ones. The times he had grieved alone, without a shoulder to cry on. Yet whenever a problem cropped up, they came for him.

And the cheek they had! No gratefulness for what he had done and when he was ill equipped to thwart crises they fell upon him. Called him names. Incompetent, unworthy, failure.

Why? Why should he repeatedly put himself forward for this ungrateful lot? Why should he sacrifice himself and his lot just so they could live peacefully?

NO MORE

These lot had to be taught a lesson.

He stumbled as he entered the market square. It still looked the way he remembered. Even the colours stayed the same, after all these years, and there in the corner he spotted it.

The protruding hilt of the sword, after all these years these lot had forgotten about it! He ran his hands down the hilt. He heaved a deep breath as he drew it once again.

Lightning cracked in the sky as he brandished the sword.

Crimson lightning.

He shed the rags and threw back the hood. His grin turned to raucous laughter as a storm descended on the town.

Time for them to pay their dues.