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// Lives Once Saved... 
// Story: Equestrian Wars 
// by Saacsa 
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     Writing this now feels silly and REALLY ironic. But they told me to do it, so I will. Whoever is reading this and however you found it, keep these pages. Don't just trash them. Don't burn them. Don't throw them in the wind. Keep them. Close. I am about to tell you my story, from beginning to end in every little detail.  My name is Private Jack Himith Halok, or rather, General Jack Himith Halok now, and this is my story...


The dark afternoon sun casted a serene glow through the lush greenery as it set in the cerulean skies. The clouds shone a majestic orange rust and the wind gently graced the rustling red and yellow leaves as the birds sang sweetly in the chilled air. The fish swam smoothly through the crystal clear waters and the squirrels made their small barks and cheerful playing noises. It was a refreshing experience to say the least. I gently walked through the timber, taking in every scent of rose, jasmine, lavender, and daisy along with the sights and sounds.

Then the sound of a gunshot ripped through my fantasy, startling me from my gorgeous dream. I  was on my feet in seconds, gun in one hand and the other on my cutlass's hilt. I slowly crept to the opening of my tent. Big mistake. My dear friend, George, hit the ground in front of me, the blank look of death having consumed his eyes. I sighed and gritted my teeth, George and I had one hell of a history. Best friends from birth, as to say. But really it was a from kindergarten up. But the bottom line was that we were inseparable. When I had wanted to join up in the military, he was very skeptical, but I had insisted that he stick with me, even after High School. Oops. I should have let him stay at home with his family. I would mourn him later though, my life was currently at stake. More and more shots rang out and a full on leaden battle was commencing outside my tent. I decided to lay low. Not due to lack of courage, but more of wanting to keep my brains in my head. I stuck to one side of the tent and figured that the best thing to do would be to draw my cutlass that my commander told me would be useless out here, and put it into my right hand as my left held a Desert Eagle 50 caliber handgun. I really am glad I decided to do so, because a second later, I heard the gunfire stop.

A foreign voice walked to the entrance of my tent with two more guys beside him. He shouted something to the men and they entered. One was met with a bullet through the chest and, as I whipped around their commanders shocked figure, I put a blade through the jugular of the second man, sending his blood all over the side of my tent. That was going to be hell to clean up. I quickly ripped the sword out and spun around to kill the commander, but I was met with a Colt M1911 barrel to the face. Second mistake of the night. It was probably jacked from one of my fallen allies or stolen in a raid. It didn't matter either way. I was going to die. I relaxed my adrenaline pumped body as I looked into the barrel and saw the primed lead that had my name written all over it.

"Gotcha." He said, but then as he was about to pull the trigger, he stopped. His face changed to fear and the gun dropped from his shaking hand and into the sand. I raised my eyebrow in curiosity as he fled out of the tent, tripping over himself in the process. I looked down at my hands and my eyes widened in surprise as I noticed a purple glow consuming my body.

"What the?" I said with confusion. I felt the cloth walls closing in around me, dizziness ensued and I felt my eyes roll into the back of my head. The last thing that I remember before the blackness was a lush grass on the back of my head, cushioning my fall.