Rushed rough draft

[Obby]

Long ago, in the time before time during the creation of the known world when myth and lore were reality. During this time things were not always as they appear. But let us not get ahead of ourselves shall we. Our story takes place many years later deep in the forests of Japan. A poor lonely young man searching for his way exhausted from his long journey stumbled upon a small cave where he wishes to spend the night. Soundly he sleeps not knowing what destiny holds for him. For upon this night a great meteor shower fills the skies lighting up the night say for one which seems guided by destiny towards the opening of the cave landing with a great crash startling the man from his slumber.

With eyes wide open ,completely startled and jumps from where he laid. Realizing that he is in no immediate danger, slowly he walked outside to the meteor. He looks at the smoldering earth, red hot as if it had been painted red. Placing his hand near it and quickly pulling away from the intense heat. Even the air was hot around it! Looking at the rock one more time, he quickly opens his pack and gets his canteen pours the water on the meteor covering his face as the steam curl up around his hand. Patiently waiting for a few moments for the steam to clear.

Gasping loudly as he looked at the meteor. He could see what seemed to be the hilt of some sort. Impatient he tried to touch the red hot hilt. Letting out a scream of pain jumping back towards the cave sucking on his hand and waving it in the air in tandem. The man walked out of the cave in search of water, and saw a few other meteors scattered around the lush vegetation surrounding the cave. He walked further and found a clearing with a small pool of water. The man dipped his hand in it, instantly cooling the burn. Looking around as he dipped his canteen in it he saw a large rock that seemed to be hallowed out. Surprise he quickly filling the rock with water he then carried it back to the cave where he slowly poured it on the smoldering hilt his eyes in awe as the handle slowly cooled.

Grasping the hilt firmly the man slowly pulled out what seemed to be a weightless katana covered in ass and dust. Carefully he began cleaning the blade only to realize it was glowing a dull blue. Looking around he quickly re-entered the cave hiding what he had found as he slowly nodded back off to sleep dreaming of what wealth he could a vast from such a find.

Several days later the wandering man finally reached a small town where he rested holding his newly found sword close. Several unsavory characters noticed the man acting strangely toward what he was holding and struck and plan to steal what he had. The man tired and hungry sat down at a small street venders stall and ordered some rice balls paying with the last bit of money he had left. Half way through his meal the bandits rushed past him swiping the sword before making their way out of town. The traveler was distressed how could his only way of making any money be gone so quickly leaving him alone and poor again.

Running from town the bandits exited with their hall stopped to gaze at the wonders they had. Upon
opening the pack and revealing the sword several of the groups bandits started fighting and killing each other over it till only one was left badly wounded he made his way through several rice patties
only to fall seemingly dead in front of a small rundown farm house.

After several minutes the bandit crawled up to the farmhouse and found the door unlocked. He struggled to his feet and wrenched the door open. His wounds were far worse than he had feared. He sat on a crate of what looked like peaches that was sitting in what must have been the old kitchen. He tore his shirt open and created a field dressing that his father had shown him. Back when he had a father, And a family. That’s why he had turned to his life of robbing and plunder. He had no family, no one to care about him. He had to make ends meet. So he did what he only knew how to. Take.

The man sighed. What was he doing anyways? Thinking about the people that had left him. Some stupid plague and they had all died. But not him. He was just fine. He looked down at his leg where the worst of the cuts were crisscrossing over his knee and shin. He gasped when he saw blood creating a disgusting black pool that seemed to be just under his skin by his knee where his makeshift tourniquet was. He gingerly touched a finger to it and moaned in pain. Black blood, he thought, what does that mean? Isn’t that what Da had before he died? Is… that going to Happen to me?

His breathing was strained and ragged. He sat there for about fifteen minutes then decided to do something with what seemed like his last day. He went outside, found a rock and started digging a grave for his fallen brothers. Wasn’t it ironic, He thought again, That the thing that they all had fought over, was what killed them all? He dug the grave for two hours, heaving and wheezing all the while. When he was finished, the sky opened up, and rain poured down on him. He dragged his two other comrades into the grave and started pushing the dirt back in. He was feeling slightly better. Maybe he wasn’t going to die. Maybe God had seen he was trying to make amends and was healing him.

Just then a crack of lightening lit the sky and the booming crash of thunder followed suit. He slipped and fell into the grave. He clawed at the side of the grave desperately trying to get back up. No, no, he would NOT die in a watery grave! The man thought to himself. I will get out. I have to get out! Then the dirt turned mud started pouring in on the man, he was still trying to get out and inhaling the mud. Coughing his lungs out the man holds a hand up to his mouth and coughs into it. He takes his hand away and reveals a bloody hand. This is it, he thought, the end. He sat down on one of his former brothers and waited for himself to just fade away…..

[La Vie Cruelle]

coming across a few typos throughout the whole. Some transition between first few paragraphs would make things clearer. Some places seem a tad bit sudden, others need more sentence structure organization. Gist of the story is good.