[NeonAges]

    Okay, so this is a new one for me.  This is a story about a man's last moments against an undead enemy.  It's in Haiku form.  That's right.

His face was steady,
Trembling hands on the sword,
He sighed a deep sigh.

He fought with fury,
Raged not at the enemy,
But at his own loss.

He knew he would die.
In fact, he wished that he would;
His lover married.

He swung with blind rage.
He knew not his enemy.
They were not alive.

Finally, it came.
An arrow had pierced his head,
And, at last, he fell.

No blood in his veins,
Yet reinvigorated,
He opened his eyes.

His face was steady,
Trembling hands on the sword,
He sighed his last sigh.

Shambling to his feet,
He was calm as the mountains.
He now saw clearly.

All thoughts washed away,
Save for his last emotion;
Fighting with despair.

With his sword readied
He impales a former friend.
His face was steady.

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