As people have probably realized I enjoy perspective works. Here's something I wrote to go along with one of my role-playing characters on Gaia. I'll post her profile and then I'll post the piece. I'm not overly fond of this piece, but I'm bored so I'll post it anyway.
Kumiko's Profile wrote:
Character Name: Kumiko
Appearance: Kumiko has long black hair that's braided into an elaborate bun. She wears a black kimono with red flowers at the neck portion, with a red obi and silver inner kimono. She has a pale complexion with misty gray eyes that many mistake her to be blind.
Weapons: She carries small knives, hidden in her sleeves, and obi so they aren't as noticeable as a sword.
Biography: Kumiko lives in a rural village with her parents who are medicine people. She helps her mother tend to the small herb garden they have while her father makes the polituces for injured people.
Additional Info (Optional): Usually quiet, Kumiko picks up things quickly and despite her father's efforts she has remained their only child and has learned a lot of her father's healing techinques through observation.
It's there, always, it's always there. Whenever my eyes are open, it's there, whenever my eyes are closed it's there in my mind. Memories of blood, of war, of death, of sickness, they're always there. They drown everything else, they suffocate me. All the little smiles as they recover, drenched in the blood of a comerade, all the first steps after a broken leg, crushed like the next man's ribs.
Day by day swords come closer. More and more soldiers arive uncerimoniously at my door, left by frightened villagers trying to be rid of the sights before their children see.
What about me, I'm haunted by the images? I suffer as the men do, I cry to sleep when one dies, their gaunt faces reminding me of how close the war is comming.
Then he came, he came calling for men to arms. He came and demanded the names of the village families. No, he didn't say this. But I knew, how could I not.
The very thought of him causes the hundreds of dead men that have passed through the door of my family's home to flash in my mind. The hundred's of men who's sight will never return, who will never walk again, who will never speak or hear again. The men who have missing limbs. The men so traumatized there is no way to help them. Are my fellow villagers to become like them? The very thought of him makes my mind cry out in the pain I feel from them.
Tell me, someone tell me how to stop the war and images that haunt all parts of my mind. Tell me so I may stop it.
Link changed to my library.