Things have been rather lacking in inspirational power as of late, and I’ve been slacking in all areas of my writing. Stories, documentation- heck, even my ability to log into my PC has just gone out the window.
But it’s ok, I’ll never let my own laziness be an acceptable excuse. Sure, honesty is the best policy, but honesty doesn’t make anything any less pejorative.
As of my day, well nothing of interest really happened, so instead I’ll tell you a short story I heard:
Golden, luscious warriors envelop the coastline, armed with nothing but their own determination to put a stop to the cavalry of purity that fast approaches them. The light from above has already been taken hostage by dark grey cotton, and re-inforcements threatens to be air-dropped in. Like kamikaze pilots, they will fall with unrelenting might to impale, crush and obliterate all who stand in their way, but that never stops our soldiers. Our heroes of joy and innocence. Sure, their fortresses architecture may be the result of a child’s imagination combined with a plastic house and gravedigger, but that is exactly why they must defend. No surrender, there will be no defeat. Not this time.
Then without warning, the oracle above takes a firm grip of the very planet. It taps it with it’s wrinkly, war-torn fingers, then-. The tide turns. The horses become violent, moving in waves of unstoppable force, and the might of our army is reduced to nothing. Blanketed in defeat, they know that entropy will always triumph, but the tide will soon tip in their own favour. The horses will retreat, having not made it far enough to destroy the only thing the army has left to protect. Ironically, this is the very life-force that will be the demise of both combatants. But they have no choice but to fight, for if they stopped, Theophrastus himself would have history re-written to ensure this war ravages the lives of horse and soldier alike.
And tomorrow, there will be no resting, for the see-saw of war oscillates perpetually.