Remembrances of a Certain Soldier, Edward Jin

How did things become like this? How did things develop into this hopeless situation?

I am standing here, on a stone bridge, while an army stands before me. Judging by their size, I would say that the enemies are at least 200 strong. Apart from my lieutenant who I sent to escort the princess and was now up ahead, I am the only left from the royal guards.

The current queen of Renaissia sent me, Darius, the captain of the royal guards, to escort the princess back to the royal Capital. This was because the queen’s health was starting to fail and she wanted to pronounce the princess as the heir to the throne as soon as possible. At first, things progressed smoothly. I departed with 50 of my best guards and left for the academy where the princess was currently schooling. As we through a forest, we were ambushed. My guards, taken by surprise, immediately let their training kick in and moved to protect the princess at all cost. We put up a good fight but were simply far too outnumbered to hold our positions.

I ordered a retreat and we changed our route to the castle nearest to our location. We set off. The ambush has left me with less than half of my original guards being able to fight and I seriously doubt we can handle another attack like that despite our abilities. We headed towards the castle as fast as we could but the enemies were still catching up to us. My men stopped and went back the way they came to stall the enemy. Before they left, they told the princess that they’ll catch up after they stop the enemy advance to reassure her, but I know differently. These men won’t be coming back anytime soon.

My men all left one by one until only my lieutenant was left. Still, we didn’t stop moving. Eventually, we made it to a stone bridge that crosses a river that runs under the cliff where the castle lies. Unfortunately, this was also the point where the enemy caught up. I sent my lieutenant ahead despite his protests because I would be able to buy the most time for the princess.

This is the present situation. I am standing on this bridge, separating the princess and my lieutenant from the enemies before me. The 200 foes stand at the foot of the bridge staring at me. I stare back at them, not losing in intensity. The air ripples with tension as we continue to stand off against each other. At this moment, a rider rides up to the front rank.

“Oh, if it isn’t Darius”
“It’s you!”
“I have a name, you know.”
“Traitor, you dare go against the country and target the princess?!”
“Why yes, I do. Won’t you let me pass?”
“… Over my dead body.”
“Over my dead body! I will not allow you, or your men step any further than this point when I’m still breathing!”
“Well that’s a shame. Men, kill him and bring me his head.”
“You bastard.”

Damn. I should have realised that it was Tybalt behind this. That noble has always been suspicious. From what I have dug up, he is conspiring with the enemy nation of Annhil to accomplish a mutual goal of theirs. My suspicions have just been confirmed. If it wasn’t for the king, I would have already put him to the sword long before this day. If, by the will of God, I live today, I will make sure that Tybalt pays.

The tension in the air finally reached a climax as I assumed a stance with my sword and shield. The soldiers in front of me, no doubt borrowed from Annhil, made a bloodthirsty cry and charged towards me. The battle has begun.

In all the battles and wars I’ve been in, I have never been this hopelessly outnumbered. In addition to that, I have to stall the enemy before me until sunset, which is still some time away. The sun has yet to touch the horizon but the time it will take to reach there feels like an eternity for me. To think that I have to hold on for an entire hour against 200 opponents is impossible, despite my terrain advantage. The bridge I am standing on only allows 3 men to be at the front at any one time.

I fight, I fight, I fight. I fight for my life. I fight for the safety of my princess, who has yet to reach Château des Chevaliers. I fight, as casualties start to pile up against each other. I continue to fight, even as I am accumulating wounds, even as I am starting to tire.

I have cut down many people already. I have already slain enough that corpses lay by my feet and a small pile is forming by my side. This is a great help as I can hinder the movement of my enemies and slow down their advance. I can not keep this up forever, as I continue to accumulate wounds and fatigue. Unfortunately, the enemies just keep coming. When I cut down one, two would take his place as I continue to slowly get pushed back.

I have been forced back to the apex of the stone arch bridge. I can not continue on for much longer. My breathing is ragged, my armour weighs heavily on my shoulders. I have many cuts and scratches all over my body. I can barely lift my sword. Still, I can’t afford to stop. I continue to swing my sword.

I head felt a huge impact as a soldier hit me with the pommel of his sword. My vision sways as I barely remain standing. I fall onto one knee. I can not stall the enemy any longer. I peer at the sun. The sun has only just started to set. Ah, this must be it, I guess. I’m sorry, princess. I have failed. Please forgive my incompetence.

At this moment, my lieutenant slew the enemy about to deal the killing blow before me. If my lieutenant has come back, then the princess must have reached the castle’s men and had them escort her back. Below me, the ground vibrates as knights deployed from the castle arrive. They slaughter the remnants of the soldiers on the bridge and give chase to Tybalt, who ran as soon as the Knights came. He will soon be caught and be put to death for treason. How well this has turned out. The heir to the throne is safe, and the traitor will soon be put to death. I collapse to the ground.

“William, please protect the princess in me stead. I pass my duty on to you.”
“Captain! Captai…tain …ap…”

Hm? Is someone calling for me? My hearing is starting fade. I can not seeing anything either. Everything is pitch black. It’s dark, so dark but I don’t feel uncomfortable. I feel strangely warm, though wet. That’s probably my blood, isn’t it? I am tired, so tired. I can finally take a rest. Ah, now feels like a good time to sleep.

How to Write in Ten Painful Lessons

The page stares up, blank

as I push down the pen down.

Into the paper.

Making a point.

No, I’ve no Idea! Mind clouding.

The perfect introduction alludes me

as I stare




And with Sisyphus’ grievance

Jerkily scrapes a line across the page

making a single, lonely sentence.

I tear it up: it is not right

unfitting for such a world.

The boulder crashes down.

The page stares empty.

The pen is growing sedentary

The hill looms: dauntingly

The clock strikes the second

painfully                       loudly

I know I’m using up time…

But isn’t the boulder meant for eternity??

I didn’t know anymore…

Time is twirling away

The distinct gleam of light is gone.

My pen is like a sword, Edward Jin 10M

Edward Jin 10M, 2015

My pen is like a sword
But it is not an ordinary sword
For the pen is mightier than the sword
And tip sharper than the blade
Slaying more than just dragons and lords
Grabbing more hearts and writing more yore

Because it was not the sword
That created fantasy worlds
And spun romantic words
It was the pen, mightier than even the most legendary swords

Appearance and Reality: A New Telling of an Old Urban Legend.

Snow, thick and clumpy, layered the yard as Katie slowly settled into the warm depths of the sofa. Having been lounging on the sofa for most the morning, it was now invitingly warm and comforting, the only area in which she felt herself to be at one with. The television opposite her blared its broadcasts, blinding her with bright light, as an advertisement for vacuum cleaners slid across the screen. Signing, Katie rubbed her eyes vigorously, and proceeded to reach for the popcorn bag next to her, in which she had eaten already half of the contents. Her parents were not home, having been called away on a business trip, in which they had to attend a conference of some distance away. Her younger brother, Owen, was asleep upstairs.

For the first time, Katie felt a slight probing into her comfort. The wind chimes at the front of the house jangled discordantly, adding some sense of fascination and wonder: the sweet, chiming jingles diffused slowly to her location, bringing with it a sense of the outside world. The house seemed then to be infinitesimally quiet: silence crept about in the corridors, curled around door-frames, and whispered their presence to all. Strangely, the noises from the television seemed to have  died down, fading into the shifting background, with a connotation of muffled voices, discordant voices, which did not dissipate when Katie concentrated more on watching the program. Slowly, her resourcefulness and her comfort was being eaten away; she nervously returned her outstretched arm back into the blanket.

The wind chimes jangled again. This time, they seemed to herald something else, something unrecognisably distant, something that crept about the house, avoiding human sight and the light…

Something stirred, far back from Katie’s vision. Something indefinable had started to proliferate, to expand.

A being slowly moved out of the shadows, and slowly ambled towards the glass back door, towards Katie’s position.

It knows, she thought. It knows what it wants to do…

The thing slowly came nearer: its sprite became larger, but its features did not get any more vivid and clear. Does it even have any features? Katie thought, as wave after wave of panic crippled her; made her helpless…

As the thing approached her position, it slowly slid one of its arms into its jacket pocket.

No, Katie thought.

A thin, wicked, steely gleam pierced the snowy scene. The thing was coming closer, closer. Any moment now, she’ll see it…

The thing filled the entire window: it reached its fingers forward…

Screaming, Katie finally forced her arms over her head, and pulled the blanket over herself, in one quick move; she could still imagine it coming closer, unimaginable horror in the depths of deep snow.

There was no one in the house: Owen was still asleep.

Shaking uncontrollably, Katie huddled on the sofa, eyes forcefully shut, small, pitiful whimpers coming out of her lips. She imagined the blanket being torn off, imagined the thing towing over her, wielding an unearthly weapon.

However, feeling the interior of her jacket, she found her mobile. Panicking, gasping, her face flushed with tears, she started to dial.

The police van reached her five minutes later. Then, Katie was visibly under enormous panic and stress. Huddled on the sofa, still unable to move, she cried out the events of the previous half-hour. Sergeant Kimble, who had been called away from his coffee break, felt a slight sense of annoyance at her. Having categorised Katie as a imaginative person, he was inclined to explain to her the role of the police: How could she have led the Police on a wild, rambling tale that was evidently illogical and false?

But the expression of genuine joy she gave when she saw him made him reconsider. He proceeded to calm her down.

“Look, love, there were no footprints outside in the back yard, where you claim to have seen the figure: and since no snow fell during the past half hour, we can safely assume that any footprints would still be present. Therefore, I can only say that the figure was part of your stressed mind, playing foolery on you.”

Having seen the sign of relief from the girl, he decided that he had done quite enough. Straightening his jacket, he called the girl’s parents, and advised that they return home: until then, Katie and Owen would stay with their friends.

He did not think that he should elaborate further: not even about the wet footprints that ran from the front door, which was invitingly open, and which curled slowly around the door to the living room, until it reached the back of the sofa.

Boxing Should be Banned

Boxing has been a sport even since the ancient Olympics. However, boxing directly promotes sexism and is the only sport which promotes violence and thus with one of the highest death rates. This sport is detrimental to the participants, the families and modern society. Boxing should be permanently banned as it is no longer the era of the Ancient Greeks where physical prowess is admired.

The sport of boxing is a direct promotion of sexism; a notion which was highly prominent in the time of the sport’s origin of the ancient Olympics. Boxing is among the most sexist sports which are legal and publically broadcasted. It is a sport which claims that women spectators are attracted to the men showing off their physicality. This stereotype may have been accurate in the sport’s invention; ancient Romans with their colosseums. It is now the twenty-first century and modern day women who are much better educated would want to not be involved with those who take part in the barbaric sport. This so called sport has no place in modern society and should be banned.

Boxing promotes and requires one side to deliberately attack and brutally maim the opposition. Boxing is the single sport where two people fight in a ring and are paid money for how much they can maim and knock their opponent out unconscious. Unlike other sports such as soccer where a red card may be given and the player suspended for violence; boxers are paid even more for more brutal acts of violence and knocking out the other person. Australian society is trying to remove violence and if they hope to succeed paying people to attack each other needs to be banned.

With a consistently high mortality rate boxing rips many families apart. Every time a boxer steps into a ring he will exit with brain damage. Every hit taken to the head damages the brain slightly and this damage builds up until the effects are felt suddenly. Injuries can also occur instantly; one example is the “knockout punch” which is the goal of the sport. This is a hit that aims to knock the other competitor unconscious. Studies have shown that boxing leads to long term brain damage and can increase risk of illnesses such as Parkinson’s disease.  In another study there were three hundred and thirty nine mortalities between 1950 and 2007. This number is only the deaths of professional boxers and does not count the grief of their families. Banning this brutal sport would equal the end of all the needless suffering and death.

Although the disadvantages of boxing are obvious it may be argued that boxing is an honoured and ancient sport. Many argue that boxing was even an Olympic sport when the Olympics first stared in ancient Greece. However, as stated before boxing was created by ancient Romans who used slaves as boxers and masses of people watched the slaves fight for entertainment. Boxing is merely reminding the world of the now illegal practise of slaving. In ancient Greece many wars were occurring and times were unstable. Now is an age of prosperity and there is no need to prove physical prowess through being paid to attack another person in a ring. It is no longer ancient Greece where boxing was widely practised. Boxing needs to be banned in our sophisticated society.

Any sport which is a direct promotion of sexism and unnecessary violence has been banned or simply does not exist other than boxing. Boxing is the cause of hundreds of deaths annually and although was once honoured in ancient Greece; it is the twenty-first century and it is time for this barbaric sport to be banned in our contemporary society.


Tom enters his room and slumps into his desk chair. With a loud sigh, Tom logs on to his computer. After a long day of scamming people of their money online, he was looking forward to the weekend.

Tom’s computer screensaver appears and double clicks the internet icon. Logging on to his email, a bright message displays the words, ‘One new email’. Tom raises an eyebrow, wondering the contents of what the new email contained. Before opening the email, the virtual letter was titled with a, “DO NOT OPEN”. He thought to himself, ‘Why would someone send an email that states, do not open?’ Puzzled, Tom desperately tried to ignore the bold letters that contained what could be, the most terrifying thing he may witness. However, after many attempts of focusing the mind on some other interest, Tom finds himself staring at the email once again, titled ‘DO NOT OPEN’. Sat there, deep in thought, Tom reaches for his mouse and hovers over the email icon. “This is stupid,” mutters Tom. He proceeds to open up the email.

At first, the page seemed blank. Tom laughs as he got himself so nervous over the consequences that he thought he would have faced. Scrolling down, a worrying picture of an aged skull with a black backdrop seemed to be enlarging itself. Tom looked again, much more closely to see if his eyes were deceiving him. At that time, the image slowly covered the computer screen and leaked out of the screen. Engulfing the bedroom walls, floor and anything else in the room. Tom ran for the door, only for the door to be locked. Oddly, his door never received a lock. The eerie sound of a cackle and the clanking of chains filled the room with the skull close to engulfing Tom, who by now was curled up in a ball and was completely afraid of what was now transpiring. The skull only grew in size, and the entire room was filled with a deafening supernatural shrill.

A knock on the bedroom door, was given no response. Jonathan entered Tom’s room, wondering where Tom had been for the past 12 hours. The room was immaculate and the computer turned on. Burned into the screensaver, Jonathan made a passing remark about how the man running from a skeleton strongly resembled Tom.

Adrenaline And Survival

Life, a simple thing,

I can almost hear the bells ring.

Distraught vision, dizzy head. The feeling of being nearly dead.

Every movement hurts. Just need to crawl a few more inches.

Breathing heavy, reaching forward.

Trying to find anything at all.  A snarl, a scream. Just need to move forward.

Pain in the body, no strength to  move forward.

Must make it, there is no faking it.

Foggy sky, moist air.  Life is not fair.

Persevere through these final moments.

Eyesight failing, Breathing slowing, still moving forward.

My hand, four fingers. Life ebbing away.

Final struggle, no more crawling, dragging, resistance.

Trees shaking, a gust of cold wind sweeps over.

Time has run out. The final breath.

Say goodnight, you have been left for dead.