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Misplaced In Time


Brandon Hostile

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As busy streets roar through the night, cars pass by never to be remembered. Forgotten in the abyss of existence and lost in the histories. This world, home to billions of people both scattered and bunched together. Only few get remembered eternally. It is not exactly this worlds pride to be remembered. Through out the years of western civilization many people have come and go just as another flicker of light in the sky or just as another day passes by.

 

Each day is a true struggle. A struggle of life, strength, will, emotion and freedom. In this new world, though it may not seem so, we fight every day. Few stand against many and many stand against even more. They offer their name recorded as so they are never forgotten. But truly, they wither away in the desert sands. Taken by the wind never to whisk through the same valley twice.

 

As they walks on, along the brutal path that leads him to war, they remains calm. As others lose their wit and shout only two keeps their reserve. As few stand against many, their paths are certain. They are not meant to succeed. They know that in a moments flash the world around them can crumble and they to can disintegrate beneath the rubble.

 

Descendants of Sparti they stand. True warriors, true brothers misplaced in the wrong day and age. For this era is not where they belong. Defeat to them is the greatest honor though it is not easily given. They are strong and cunning, quick and agile. There's no room for softness, not in Sparta. No place for weakness. Only the hard and strong may call themselves Spartans. Only the hard. Only the strong. With no surrender and no retreat, they prepare themselves. Their calling awaits, for they are Hostile. Through their Hostility they will remember this day, for it will be theirs for all of time.

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You don't mean anything. You're insignificant and you will never know what hate is.
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