Worth Saving

Worth Saving

A Story by M. Elizabeth Archer

My version of a journal entry


The battle was over. I knew it from the looks of sadistic pleasure on our enemies' faces, and I knew it from the mangled bodies of dead and alive alike that filled the battlefield. All of our enemies had by then removed their guises to reveal their true uniforms: solid black, unnerving to say the least, perfect reflections of who they really were. Not a single one of their men had fallen, yet not one of our men stood, and most survivors feared to move lest the retreating soldiers sough to finish them with a single stroke of a perfectly crafted blade. We were commoners, unskilled and untrained, and they were an expert militia. The pain in every muscle, every bone, every fibre of my body could not approach the emotional pain that I felt. Apart from an agonizing stab to the chest, my heart was torn by the sight of our feeble but brave army that had been ripped to shreds almost effortlessly.


I heard the sound of hooves and for a moment thought that our allies had come to rescue us. I was wrong; dressed in black and perched upon a white horse was their commander, our greatest enemy. I felt no fear. I was dying, what purpose would it serve? It was anger that poured out as quickly as the blood: anger that he had ruined us, anger that he had ordered our destruction, anger that he had laughed as our greatest men fell to the ground already dead. There was even an absurd anger that his steed was white, a colour that had always been, at least to me, a sign of purity. Was it some sort of humour to him? If so, then his mind was as twisted as his soul.


"There's one," a mocking voice said. One of the soldiers has seen me move. "Shall I kill her now?"


The enemy commander turned to look at me. "This one? Hah!" He looked straight into my eyes and I shuddered. His eyes were striking; how could pure evil be so handsome? "That one is as harmful as a dead roach. She is not good enough for death." He spit, and in spite of the distance it landed on my arm. It burned nearly as much as my hatred. "Do not waste your time. She is not worth killing." He kicked his horse and sped away. His men followed him, laughing.


So there I lay, with nothing left but the pain and the humiliation. I could feel my pulse in the liquid running from my chest, and it was slowing. I was too stubborn to wish for death, but there seemed no other relief. I was basking in the fact that there was, at least, no one left to worsen my pain... until I heard footsteps. I turned my head, expecting an enemy strangled come to end my misery.


One glance told me that He was not. He was wounded, bleeding, covered in stabs upon scratches upon scars. His clothes were plain, but there was a sort of majesty in the way that He carried Himself. His eyes were upon me, warm grey eyes, strong but soft, piercing but comforting. I was certain that it was not me that He sought, but when He spoke it was my name. I wanted to leap to my feet and run to Him, but infirmity and insecurity held me down.


"Who are you?" My throat was raw from swallowing blood, and I quickly regretted speaking.


"A friend." He knelt beside me. "I have come to save you."


"Save me?" I choked, a failed attempt at a mirthless laugh. "I am not worth saving."


He took my hand and I forgot the pain. There were only His eyes, His sweet, penetrating eyes.


"My child," said He, "everyone is worth saving."

© 2010 M. Elizabeth Archer

Author's Note

M. Elizabeth Archer
I have written this multiple times without referring to past drafts, and this is the first one I have submitted for editing. Do the questions seem out of place for the style, and do the fragments work?

My Review

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This was great. I particularly loved the last line. Also part of the first line caught my attention. "Sadistic pleasure on our enemies faces." I really thought this was powerful.

At first, I felt very sad and thought this would end bad for the character, but as it came to a close I felt content and happy. Emotion was very strong in this.

The only thing I really found wrong with this was the fact that I thought it was a man until the enemy said otherwise. The thoughts, to me, just sounded more of a mans thought than a womans.

But all in all, I really enjoyed reading this, and loved how it made me feel as it came to an end.

Posted 10 Years Ago

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Added on June 25, 2010
Last Updated on June 25, 2010


M. Elizabeth Archer
M. Elizabeth Archer


I have always had an interest in the fine arts, and I am hoping to refine my abilities by means of this website. I write short stories and poetry, and I am working on a novel, as well. I am also inv.. more..