Thousand Day War

Prologue

The age-old saying states clearly in black and white that violence is not and will never be an answer, but what if that's the only answer I know to all my problems, The only thing I know for certain, without a doubt in my mind, the only thing that protects myself from the ruins this world is left in. Blood unites us, blood makes us human, blood make me all the same, and in mine is violence. Violence makes me human, violence gives me pain, it lets me know that I am still human, that behind all the brave bravado I put on, I am still human, nothing more, nothing less. 

Living in this time and age may seem eventful to most, adventurous even. But for me? It is simply a bore, one that I have to deal with till my last heaving breath. One simply cannot wish for the best when they have known nothing but the worst of all humanity. Danger surrounds each and every aspect of our everyday lives, and no matter what we do, no matter how hard we try to ignore it, the feeling of being in danger is something that all of us crave, no matter how young or how old we are. 

The immense thrill of danger, the adrenaline rushing through your veins as your brain is wired tight, thinking of ways to escape from the hole you just dug for yourself is a feeling bested by no other. The sensation of knowing that you won't be alive tomorrow may scare everyone else, but not in the west. Here, if you fear, you are simply a waste of space, a waste of money and a disappointment to your family. 

Fear is what pushes us forward, fear is something that is completely humane and yet so otherworldly at the same exact time, fear comes from the very root of our ancestors, and here, it is as clear as day exactly how much fear is present in our everyday lives. 

Gunshots ringing through the dread of night, the wind whistling through the bare branches of the dying trees, seeming as if it is signalling for the reaper to come and take us, once and for all, stripping us of our very lives, taking it away with just a snap of a finger. That is how vulnerable we feel, that is how much fear we surround ourselves with, day and night.  Something that we can't possibly outrun, the fear inside us is something so deeply embedded within us that the only way we could possibly escape it is death. 

The west, the west is my home, it's the only home I have ever known, and I would not, no matter the cost, leave it behind. The dry heat calms me, the citrusy scent wafting through the air is something that is as comforting to me as another's baby blanket. The clink-clank sound of the bells ringing on the sheriff's boot is as familiar to me as a mother's humming to her baby, guns no longer scare me. After all, it is my gun that's being fired. 

Wiping off the sweat that has started to bead on the arch of my eyebrow, I release a sigh, one full of fatigue. This plane of desolateness is home to me, and it will always be my home. Being the sheriff of such a place, ridden with evil in every nook and cranny takes a toll on someone. Especially if that someone is barely 19 summers old. 

I tilt my head back, relishing in those sweet cherished moments when my family were still beside me, in all their flesh and blood glory, before they were torn to shreds by that beast, before they succumbed to nothing but rotten flesh and bones, deep in a six-feet-deep hole. 

My eyes grew cold at the haunting thoughts and memories threatening to break free from its confines, threatening to put me through the nightmare all over again. All I could see was red, the blood spurting from their open wounds, mouth flooded with blood, their hands reaching out for someone, something, anything that could revive them and those eyes, those ghastly eyes will forever haunt me. But what terrified me the most about that image was not the grotesque sight of human bodies gnawed through and through, it was the emotions present in those eyes, or lack thereof. 

Those eyes were filled with hopelessness and desolateness as if they already knew that there's no chance for their survival anymore, that there is not even a sliver of hope, that even though someone managed to get to them in time, it would still be far too late. My fists clenched by my side, my nails digging into the tender skin of my palm, tears that had already pooled in my eyes threatening to spill out as a stray tear defied my command and flowed its way down the plane of my face, leaving a streak of bleak dampness in its wake. 

The star badge pinned on the lapel of my coat shone brightly in the evening sun, it's the only thing that keeps me going. Just picture it, a pitiful orphan, barely 19 summers old holding the esteemed title of "Sheriff", tasked with the most brutal of jobs, keeping my home safe and protecting everyone from any and all harm. I wouldn't wish for what happened to me to the most savage of us all, no matter what cruel deeds one has ever done, nothing would be equal to the punishment of losing their parents. 

My name is Alexander Savage and I vowed to never let what happened to me happen to anyone else, no matter the cost, I will make sure that nothing and I mean nothing would go against anything I stand for. And those who dare go against me, my name would be the last thing they will utter.