A short story written for school, loosely based on a real life experiance.
The fierce blade of the axe dissected the branch, leaving it to helplessly fall to the ground. I kicked it, as the fallen warrior it was, deserving neither dignity nor compassion. I smiled, held he axe steadily in my hands and let it hit the tree yet again, however this time barely scratching it.
The fresh wind stroked my face and the sun shone upon my hair, and I stood still for a moment, gazing upon the cloudless clear blue sky and using my empty hand to shield my eyes from the sun. The words “perfect summer” flashed through my mind, and again I focused my sight upon the tree before me. I lifted the axe, I saw the target and I realized I had missed before I even lifted the axe above the height of my thighs.
I was lying down, breathing heavily, unknowing whether my eyes should be kept open or closed. The axe’s blade had a clear dark red stain as it lay before me, and I knew it was of the same origin as what was seeping through the fingers of my shaking hand, as I instinctively tried to supply pressure on the cut on my left leg. “Blood”, I thought. “I’m bleeding.” I let go of the wound, and dared to examine it for barely a second before I withdraw my head to instead gaze lifelessly at the lonely cloud wandering across the realm of reality. My focus dropped. “It’s yellow. I didn’t know flesh was yellow. Why is it yellow? God, is that the fat? How deep is this? Why is it yellow?” Dad came running, screaming my name. But I barely heard him.