I am only doing this because I am curious to know the things I need to work on with my writing. I am not interested in rude comments and they will be deleted and not read, since they aren't worth my time. stare
Here it is, it's a very short story that I randomly came up with:
The sky was gray and dull. Snow rained from the sky heavily and violently. A young samurai had his back up against a tree trunk; his legs sprawled out on the ground which was covered fully with six feet of snow. A group of dead corpses in expensive clothing surrounded him, lying in a pool of their own blood. His dark hair swayed with the vigorous wind as his eyes focused on the corpse of his beautiful lover in his lap; a geisha. His eyes were filled with sorrow. His pale hand trembled as it brushed away a strand of raven hair from her tan face, which wore a peaceful expression; no sign of pain or agony was hinted in her face. He grazed her cheek with his thumb. Then it slowly traveled down to her lips, which were red from lipstick and had blood trickling from the side of it. He traced the shape of it, a few tears dropping onto her dark skin, just underneath her closed eyes. It trickled down, making it seem she was the one that shed them. He hugged her frail body to his chest, staining his clothes with her blood and crying onto her shoulder, her death replaying his head repeatedly.
He had just freed her from her imprisonment in the brothel house, but as they escaped together through the forest, they were cornered by a group; his boss and crew. The young samurai was supposed to kill the innocent geisha, but he refused and helped her escape instead. He had to watch her get cut down mercilessly, but as that happened, something inside him snapped and he blacked out to wake up to see his boss and his crew slaughtered. Their bodies were ripped to shreds from his sword, all of them decapitated. He was covered with their blood from head to foot.
The young samurai leaned down and kissed her lips one last time, before taking out his crimson stained sword. He laid his lover’s body against the soft cushioned snow in front of him and lifted up his sword high in the air, grasping onto the handle with both of his hands. He gave his lover one last glance, smiling weakly at her, before looking at the sky and closing his eyes tightly. Without hesitation, he rammed his sword through his stomach, screaming out in pain. He coughed up blood and pushed his sword deeper as far it was allowed to go inside him, spitting out more blood. He screamed out again, forcefully withdrawing his sword from his stomach and throwing it on the ground beside him. He stared off in the distance in front of him, his eyes getting blurry and hazy, before collapsing down top of his lover. His blood, along with hers tainted the purity of the snow as it flowed like river from their wound.
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