Monday, April 23, 2007


He knew something was amiss.

The anxious chatter behind him grew louder and bolder. They didn't feel the need to hide their sinister plans anymore. It was as if they didn't care if he knew. It was as if they wanted him to know.

He carried on according to plan. Everything was clockwork, as usual. He knew there was no escaping. He knew that his time had come. All he could do was hope that he would show a little dignity - salvage a little pride, right at the end of it all. He felt his breathing get heavier and heart pump faster. He could only imagine that theirs was the same. He felt saddened, not for the fact that there was nothing he could do to change his fate, but for the fact that there was nothing he could do to change the similar fate that his loyal friend would have to endure. The sweat lining his eyebrows were not from the heat, nor as you would imagine - from the fear, but from the anticipation of the inevitable.

The unmistakable sound of daggers being unscheathed behind him brought an almost eerie smile to him face. It was almost as if he was proud to have put one up over them - he knew it was coming. They had failed to catch him by surprise. As if it mattered to them.

One by one, the icy cold daggers pierced his toga, and then his back. Perfectly choreographed, the first one was brutal, the second one cruel, but after that, it was almost poetic. He didn't feel a thing after the fourth blow and all he wanted to do was to turn around and look his assailants in the eye. He was dying, yet all he could think of was to face his murderers and give them one last smile before he gave out.

He turned and another dagger pierced his heart. Not a dagger of steel, but one of emotional pain. His intended smile faded as he looked into the eyes of his chief executioner. A look of anguish, mixed in a cocktail of hate and sadness flooded his disbelieving face. He had been totally blindsided. He was beaten and beaten soundly.

And with his last breath, he whispered dissapointingly, "Et tu, Brutus?"

Nothing Brutus said mattered. Caeser was dead.



and so the Writer writes,

||| nice |||


greek mythology, roman history and shakespeare? eh?

Mm, nifty; but too 'he' lah. Still good all the same.

Mahai someone hack into ur account and post this shit issit? hahahaha

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