Prologue

     The sound of the distant battle waged on as he lay on the ground in agony. He wondered how many more of his friends were drawing their last breath. He'd seen so many blown of them to bits or die of the hellish illnesses that would follow the troops' movements. If only he could join the departed. He longed for the end of this pain.

     The state of their weaponry had been slowly declining over the years. He was standing too close when a mortar shell went off unexpectedly. His arm was nearly torn from his body, and he could feel the warm blood as it drizzled from a wound in his head. The others were forced to leave him where he lay, and the enemy either couldn't see him or ignored him.
      He moaned as he thought, Death, why don't you come? Come and take away the pain and give me peace at last.

     He lost and regained consciousness as time dragged on. His arm had gone mercifully numb.

     I'm cold, he thought as he was dimly aware the sun had set. The crickets and frogs began their springtime lullaby as a light mist from a small, nearby pond drifted lazily over him. His head throbbed, adding to the cacophony of his surroundings.
     For a moment, his thoughts went to loved ones back home. His heart ached as his soul apologized to his dear fiancee. He'd promised her he would return, a promise he would have to break for death hovered about him yet withheld its calming darkness.

     He heard a shuffling of  boots in the foliage near him. "Who's there?" he cried as he looked around as much as he was able. A tall, pale stranger stood silently nearby.
     "Kill me," he begged. The man was dressed in strange civilian clothing. He wasn't sure if he was a yankee or a southerner. Either way, he hoped the man had a weapon.

     "No. I do not bring death today," the man said with a strange accent.

     A foreign mercenary? he questioned himself. An immigrant farmer?

     "Please, the pain is terrible," he begged once more.

       "I can end this pain, but I must ask is this what you want? To only end the pain?" The man had a strangely-sweet smell; he didn't smell like one who spent time around farm animals. Plus, his very pale skin made him doubt further he was a farmer. Who was he?
      "Yes, please! Or give me a weapon that I could do it myself. I want to die." He coughed, and he could taste his own blood. No longer caring where the man came from, he only wanted the relief death could bring.
       The man made a tsk tsk sound. "That would be such a waste. What if I gave you another choice?"

     The man took a firmer hold of him, and the soldier screamed into the night as razor-sharp teeth pierced his flesh.

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Thank you for reading! I intend for this blog story to be for viewers ages 18+ due to some of its content.

Now that you've read it, please let me know what you thought and post a comment! Either here or on the sims3 forum thread here. Thanks!