The Drifter

Disclaimer: Hi, folks! This was a little something I wrote back in college. Special thanks to my good friend, Isay Roque for editing my work. She has helped me with my writing since then and I really learned a great deal of stuff from her. Check out her blog, Starting My Own Think Tank. Click here! Anyway, on with the show.

The setting sun slowly crept to the dark line of the horizon. It was a perfect orb that silver-lined the clouds that floated gracefully and endlessly. It dimly lit the orange sky as it gently touched the green patches that stretched across the land. Truly, it was a picture-perfect view, one that brings peace and contentment to the soul.

Under the same afternoon sky, a young drifter sat underneath a lone tree in the fields. He found comfort underneath the tree's shade and lay on top of his crimson cape. Beside him lay his blade. He breathed quietly, picking up the earthy scent of the ground. The aroma excited his sense; the place emanated an aura of tranquility that soothed him. As he lazed, he stared at the sun and felt its warmth slowly replaced by the cool breeze that made the grasslands dance with its silent melody. Gazing at the distant flame, he felt a warmth and solace in a part of his soul, as though all his sorrows were taken from. 

He loved the sunset. It brought back memories, fragments of his life that freed him from the darkness he was now engulfed in. He wanted the moment to last, but the world continued to turn and the orange canvas he loved was replaced with a punctured canopy that hung over the black horizon.

The darkness of night crept over the grasslands, and he knew that it was time to move on. The wanderer took his blade and made his way back to the shadows that haunted his soul.