Feeling Alive

The strangest things come to mind when you only have five minutes to live. Khazak glanced at his side. For all the times he baptized his sword in the blood of his enemies, for all the times he felt that warm spray lick his face, for all the times he felt the liquid congeal and harden onto his skin, it was never his own. It had never caused him to wonder. He never had quite looked at it the same way as he was now. 1

His curiousity prevailed over better sense. He slowly slid his hand from the slimy ichor.A fresh flow erupted from his side. Like a child he quickly closed his hand over the wound and grinned. It was intriguing. He never felt so alive. For all his battles, for all the times he defended this holy land, never once had he felt more alive than in this moment. 2

Perhaps there had been a time when he was younger that he felt truly alive. Was it when he ran on the hills and mountain surrounding the Holy city, Jerusalem? He remembers riding his own horse for the first time, his swiftness unbridled on the eastern wind. The sun had set on glorious days back then. 3

He looked about him, stirring himself from his reveries. Seven bodies lay strewn across the floor. A few limbs were here and there. On the whole that had been a glorious battle. He had protected the hidden shrine once more. These foul men had come, swearing to their God that they would win the day in His name. His faith had prevailed-somewhat. 4

He felt his eyes droop. His eyelids fluttered as he struggled to stay awake. He was dying. For now, these last few moments were simply for him to reflect on life. He thought it queer that he wasn't praying. His mind had been too entranced with the vibrant colors, the sensual appeal of the last fifteen minutes. The men had come down, seeking to overrun the mosque. He was sure his brothers had done their part and fended off the foreign infidels upstairs. The sounds of their strange tongues intrigued him. The smell of their sweat intermingled with their fear pleased him. He found their massacre to be a fragrant offering.5

He had been bested though, and now, for some blessed reason, he was given a slow death.6

No one would come here to save him. It was him and the silence. And for the first time, all was at peace.7

His head rocked back against the stone wall. The ground shuddered and dust fell down from the ceiling. The war was still taking place. He closed his eyes and listened. There were screams and yells. Orders were given. The sound of steel grinding against steel echoed as resounding cymbals preparing for his own march into the true and final promised land. The warcries were but songs to him. They were all preparing the music for his triumphant entry. 8

His breathing was slowing down. His fervor from the fight had blow itself empty. He felt that his last breath was soon to come as well. He smiled. For so many battles he had felt invincible. He had felt god-like. He found it a blessing to die. He found it a blessing to have this slow death. He no longer felt the many wounds that plagued his body. Though his mind felt so distant from his body, he knew this was how dying was. The pulse of his heart and the throbbing of his side made him smile. 9

He let himself slide to the ground, soundlessly, and smiled.10

This is what his faith felt like.11

This is what it felt like to be mortal.12

No...he thought about it one last time.13

This is what it felt like to be alive.14

Alive....he savored the word on his lips as his heavens came caving in.15

His breathing slowed. His eyes closed.16

And for the last time, Khazak was alive.