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Mid-Death Crisis

Here’s another prompt, my first fantasy post. Let me know what you think! Enjoy!

Writing Prompt

Write a scene from the point of view of a front line grunt in an undead army, the one who gets thrown against enemy spears, dies, and is reanimated.

Source:
Writing Excuses (aka The Best Podcast Ever) – Season 1 Episode 22 writing prompt near the end.
https://mbarker.livejournal.com/76247.html

My Entry

            I’m think I’m having a life crisis right now, which is strange, because I’m dead. And just in case you were wondering, it’s completely unrelated to the spear that just separated my skull from my spine. I have been fighting for three months straight and my only rest is when my bones fall apart at the joints. You see, I’m an undead skeleton under the control of the Necromantic King Bob. Yes, his name is Bob. He sits on a throne of animated skeletons so he doesn’t have to walk. And right now, he’s trying to destroy the elven king, Gia the Eternal.
            I’ve been here every moment of Bob’s hostile takeover of the world. My crisis? I don’t know what I’m supposed to be any more. I mean, I’m an undead skeleton soldier now, but when I was first raised. I was the first undead servant of Bob, back before he’d become the Necromantic King. Back then, I felt just one thing, happy. Happy that I wasn’t dead and happy to serve the man that saved me. That continued, up until my master starting raising more powerful creatures, creatures who soon replaced me as his go-to soldier. I’ve been with him from the moment he discovered his powers, and now I am just another nameless minion, Skeleton Solider #243. I didn’t even get to keep #1, even though I was the first. And, if I approach him, he breaks me into pieces, leaves me there for hours, then brings me back.
            If I remembered who I was before being raised, that might be something, but I don’t. If I could do anything but hold a sword with my clumsy bone fingers, I would. I’d pick up carving since that seemed like a worth while endeavor. But, because of my fingers, that wasn’t option.
            And so I die, over and over. The only thing I am sure of anymore is that the bones I’m made of are still mine, still the same ones I had when I was alive. When I ‘die’ I don’t really die. I just can’t move. I can feel every bone in my skeleton no matter how far away it gets kicked, how hard it gets trampled, or how thoroughly it gets blasted. Here in lies my crisis.
Can I die? Is it possible for me to enter that void that the newly raised undead talk about? It’s been so long since I came out of the void that I can’t remember it. The joy of not being dead has worn out long ago, and I’m now just feel frozen.
            Actually at this moment, I really am frozen. King Gia has an ice mage, one that I’m sure my master will want to raise when we kill the elven king. But for now, I’m just locked in a block of ice, so with nothing better to do, I think. And my crisis continues. Maybe he won’t raise me this time, and I’ll finally find out what I’ve been missing in the void.

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