text: The sword sat collecting dust and cobwebs in the corner of the dingy, dimly lit room. Its formerly ornate scabbard was chipped and cracked in places, from years of misuse and neglect. Layers of grime covered the sword’s once beautifully intricate pommel, the flickering firelight in the room now danced across its smudged, grimy surface. This was no longer a weapon of war, no longer a mighty instrument of justice and glory. Now it was nothing more than a forgotten remnant of a time gone by. The firelight cast its glow upon another forgotten object in the room, another tool of war, cast aside and left to decay in an empty derelict room of an equally abandoned house. The half illuminated figure was seated in a rotting wooden chair, sunken eyes reflecting the weak flame of his dying fire. The knight, like his sword, had lost the meaning of victory and valour to the passing of time. The howl of battle and carnage that had rang so readily in his ears before now echoed through his soul, when once the cry of conquest made his heart soar, the memory now brought only anguish. The war was in the past, but the battle continued to rage onward in the knight’s heart and mind. He had lost his family to the battle, victims to his unending despair. Never again would see them, for he had built a wall around his heart. A wall made from bricks of horror and carnage. His house, his castle, yet remained, but it was as broken as the spirit who dwelled within it. Its foundations were crumbling, and a single leaf might well bring the whole structure crashing down. The knight, once a mighty and noble warrior, the very picture of heroism; now he sat, a testament to the truth of war. His once broad shoulders, capable of bearing the weight of armour for days, now struggled to hold themselves up against the ragged clothes he draped over himself. His mighty arms were atrophied from disuse, and his legs couldn’t hold him for long. The fire flickered, but no spark reflected in the knight’s eyes. Soon he too would collapse, for his spirit had crumbled ages ago. He would collapse along with his empty and forgotten house, a tomb he had lived in since he had returned from the war. All that would remain is a sword collecting dust and cobwebs in the corner of the dingy dimly lit room.