I remember as a fresh recruit in the Imperial army, that our very first assignment was to assist at the prison which was under siege from within.  As we finally quelled the riot and began beating the prisoners back into their cells, this crazed old inmate grabbed at me and held me in an impossibly tight grip, begging me not to put him back into that cell.

I never gave much credence to his words at that time, assuming that they were but the ravings of a madman.  But thinking back now, his rabid pleadings suddenly seem very relevant.  I recall him saying that his every breath in that cell took him further and further from life, and that every day felt like he died with his eyes open.  As I struggled to free myself from his frenzied grasp, he impaled himself upon my sword.

You know it seems funny to recall because I really don’t think I could feel any further from life then I do right now.

S.K