Vitas Serafinas Fiction

Psalm 144:1 “Blessed be the Lord, my rock, who trains my hands for war, and my fingers for battle” Yukinaga Konishi's soldiers crashed into the Fukushima army. “The lord is with me! Face his wrath!” Yukinaga shouted, cutting through numerous soldiers. He laughed as he charged deep into the fray. Yukinaga was an odd sight on the battlefield. While most Samurai wielded traditional katanas, Yukinaga favoured a European sword, given to him by the Portuguese padres. It was not as sharp as the Japanese weapons, but it was a lot heavier and with a good swing could cleave a heathen. The tip of the sword was still sharp enough to skewer an enemy. He was not one of those lords to cower in their camp. He lead his men from the front “Romans 12:19 leave it to the wrath of God, for it is written, “Vengeance is mine, I will repay, says the Lord.”” Yukinaga shouted, hitting a Fukushima soldier in the face with the hilt of his sword. He then gripped the crossguard and swung back at the ...

In the wild west, heroes are born and legends are made. But when you reach the top of your game, people are always looking to overtake you. Out here, that means everyday could be your last day. Back in the day I was a legend. Bringing vagabonds to justice, hunting down gangs of outlaws, I was admired and feared when I rode into town, when people heard my spurs. I'm now an old man, drinking my life away. All the old legends are dead and gone, all but me. The world has changed, forgotten the old west, forgotten me. But every now and then, some young gun comes along, trying to be a hero. They think that if they are faster than me, they can take the mantle of 'the legendary gunslinger of the Old West'. It pains me that I must send them home to their parents in a box. Each day my vision gets a little blurrier, my draw a little slower. Now every new challenge could go either way. I wake up each day wondering if this is my last, wondering if it will be the bottle or a bul...

The grey sky stretched over the wet grassy plains of Washington. The farm before them had once been full of crops, workers and animals. Now it was full of soldiers, trucks and weapons. Rose slowed the car to a crawl. “You okay, baby?” She asked, turning to Will and placing her hand on his leg. “Yeah, it's just not as romantic as I had hoped.” “I know, I'm sorry.” “No, it's okay. As long as I'm with you, I'm happy.” He smiled. “We'll have some romantic moments, I promise.” She said, before kissing him. Driving up to the gate, Rose placed her hand on his leg again. “Stay here, baby. I'll be back in a second.” She said, climbing out of the car. She slowly walked up to the gate. Will analysed the guards. None were wearing military garb, yet they were all well equipped. Seeing him, they had all drawn their guns, fingers resting on triggers. Rose had approached the gate and began talking to a guard on the other side. “Boss said you were coming alone...