You cut down my father, stole my sister away; leaving me a sword I couldn’t lift and a burning desire for revenge.
Now you have returned, older, just as I am. You’ve grown weak, while I’ve the strength of my whole tribe. My son and daughter bear witness as I promise you death. I discover fury is not the weapon I’d hoped it would be.
You leave me broken; man, blade, spirit. I weep as I watch my daughter take your hand. My sorrow deepens as I see my son pick up that sword’s pieces, vengeance in his young eyes.
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alt="Stone Jaws by Evan Baughfman"
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height="630"
>
sizes="(min-width: 1200px) 550px, (min-width: 750px) calc((100vw - 130px) / 2), calc((100vw - 50px) / 2)"
alt="The Mannequin People by Michael J. Stiehl"
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sizes="(min-width: 1200px) 550px, (min-width: 750px) calc((100vw - 130px) / 2), calc((100vw - 50px) / 2)"
alt="Gator by Randall Andrews"
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sizes="(min-width: 1200px) 550px, (min-width: 750px) calc((100vw - 130px) / 2), calc((100vw - 50px) / 2)"
alt="Rude Awakening by Richard Lau"
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width="1200"
height="630"
>