The Writers' Circle

(This is an exercise based on the Fiction Writier's Workshop. The excercise was to write a war scene about two pages in length. PLEASE DO NOT CRITIQUE THIS AS A STORY; CRITIQUE IT AS IF IT WAS A SCENE IN A NOVEL. IF YOU DO THAT AND CRITIQUE IT HONESTLY BASED ON WHAT I SAID, I WOULD REALLY APPRECIATE IT. THANK YOU.)


	The plain was deep and vast, and James scurried through the ranks of his platoon, charging towards the enemy army. A feeling of fear crawled into James' body, causing him to tumble between random steps, but he kept the fear from showing up in his face. "I may die, but at least I'm gonna enjoy my last battle," he yelled.
	James, unsheathing his sword, closed in on the enemy. An enemy soldier in front of James lifted his sword and tried to slash him, but James sidestepped and evaded the attack. Tightening his grip on the handle of the sword, James swung his sword, parallel to the horizon, at the soldier, causing the blade to bite down at the man's arm. Blood splattered onto James' face as he saw the man howling and writhing in pain, , trying to escape from James, sword intact. Although the soldier writhed, James didn't gain any sympathy for the man, and with one swing of his sword, he beheaded his victim. Blood secreted from the neck, and the corpse gave one last twitch before it collapsed on the bloodstained grass.
	The enemy army halted its steps; most of the infantry's eyes widened as the thought of James decimating a soldier stymied their brains' command to move, but others planted their feet to the ground, smirking at what James interpreted as a way of saying they were naive.
	James, standing in front of the soldiers, flicked the blooded off his sword. Then he gave the soldiers a tigerish look and said, "Which one of you want to come at me first? Are you afraid of one person who killed one person? If you have the courage to face me, then face me!"
	James predicted the soldiers would come  to their senses and attack him, so he hardened his leg muscles to keep himself from being moved. One by one the soldiers charged towards him-- sword and all-- and they attempted to slash him. With equine-like speed, he dodged every attack, and he obliterated most of the soldiers, cleaving their arms, legs, and hides.
	James-- panting-- made a battle stance, expecting to receive a larger assault than the previous one, but just then, James saw the enemy commander signaling a retreat to his men. James saw the infantry retreat, their feet making a clomp clomp sound along the earth.
	A feeling of surprise crept into James' mind as the metallic smell of blood and flesh plundered into James' nose. Why are they retreating, James thought. With an army of that magnitude, they could've kept fighting me until they tire me out. "Oh well," James said, and with a sigh he walked toward his commander, both giving a grin to each other as a zephyr blew against their heads, causing their hair to move.
	"Let's go back to the main camp," the commander said, puffing his chest up triumphantly.