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Death of the Heart, the Will, and the Mind

The sight of death, a sight that can torment the mind until it itself is dead. The mind can only die if the heart and the will to live dies with it. The mind will always be the last to go. The last to go into that world of insanity, or as it is unknowingly known as another stage in the consistency in the human life. It’s a stage that marks the end for the living, and the beginning for the dead. For the dead itself is a life all in its own.

During the ancient times, where honor and pride actually meant something, and warriors lived by the sword, a man named Mordrid had reached the treacherouse stage, where the mind is tormented into insanity by the loss of the heart, and then the loss of the will to live. Mordrid was the last warrior to return from a war where he had defended valiantly to protect the one he-love’s house. An arrow had left him nearly dead in the god-forsaken place as we know as a battlefield. The arrow kept him pinned down as it had tried to steal his life, but the tiny little handkerchief that he had kept him alive. It symbolized the reason for his living. The reason for why he was fighting. The reason for why his sword was tainted with the malevolent blood of his enemy. The reason for this arrow pinning him to the ground and for it trying to leeched the last bit of his life. It was the handkerchief of his wife, the one he loved. And no arrow was going to keep him down. He stayed hidden under the bodies of his fellow comrades who had died from the arrow strikes. Hidden until he was able to leave home to the one he loved. Though little did he know that he was seen stricken down and that he was already marked as dead?

After the war was over, he tried with all his might to move, but unable to regain his energy to lift the heavy dead weight that was on top of him he had no choice but to rest there until his energy came back. Once his energy returned he heaved that deadweight up from the ground with the thought that he had cheated death. Though, death never lets go. It was not going to let its strong grasp go that easily, and that went for everyone who lived that day. As he returned home, he grasped that symbolism of love that had helped him live that day. He noticed his nice lovingly home, and he imagined the look on his wife’s face when she saw him returning alive. As he reached for the door death was already snickering, for it had already done its job, and all it had to do was watch as the chain started. The door opened, and what he saw on the floor made him freeze dead in his tracks. Making the deaths of all those people in the battle seemed like nothing in comparison to what he saw on the floor. For what he saw was the blood of his wife and her lifeless body. The image of her death formed an imaginarily sword in his mind that had killed his heart, and his will to live. As he stood there clenching his sword that still had the blood of malevolent, his mind was slowly dying. He wondered there, in his once loving home that had now had nothing more than the feeling of tomb. Who could’ve done this to the women he loved? I risked my life to protect her and this place. For what? Only to come home to her dead. This place needs no more protection against death. For I shall release the gates of hell myself. Without the one I love, I bear no reason to live in this world, but she and I shall not go alone. Someone here is going to hell. For I know not who; I shall kill them all. And as I descend to hell I shall see the murderer beneath me. I will know who did this even if it means I shall live in hell for it. His mind had been reduced to a zombified state, valuing nothing more than the blood of the villagers in hopes to find out the killer’s identity. Death was there, watching as Mordrid gave him what was his. It admired at its own cunning as Mordrid killed the villagers one by one. Death even smiled as the messenger said: “I thought you were dead”. Death then laughed as Mordrid toke his own life. For he knew that he was the only one going to hell for his sword bore the mark of innocent blood. And the bloods of the villagers were all innocent.

You might be wondering how the wife could die in such a time were honor and pride cancels out the idea of killing the innocent? Well the culprit was no other than the idea of death. She had heard the news that her beloved husband had died, as she heard that news her heart died alongside her will to live, and then she took her own life, thinking her husband was never going to return to restore her dead heart. At this action, death wiped the sweat off its deadly face for breaking love was a tiring task, but death’s lust for his people had urged him onwards.

Love and the will to live mostly die by each other’s side. For one of those can hardly live without the other. And without the two, the mind will die shortly after so it can accompany its companions to that world, as we know as insanity, and then to that world as we know as death. Though a strong love can keep death at bay.