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Inspired by the title of the topic in the role-playing section.

Rated PG, there's nothing really bad about it, I don't think. Critique is definately welcome. This writing really isn't anything that I spent a lot of time on; I just made it now and have hardly editted it, so feel free to correct whatever mistake that I'm sure to have made.


Jedi Don’t Cry

Jedi are strong. Fearless. Jedi are leaders. Courageous. Jedi are servants. Humble. We never speak a frivolous word of harm that could later cause trouble. From a small child you learn to fight, to uphold the jedi law and serve the People of the worlds. But who knew it could be so hard?

I was taken into the Academy late. A rare case. I had masters and knights who fawned over my potential to be something spectacular, and then admitted that I was nothing. I have trained for seven years before a master even considered my role in helping others. I have seen death, slavery, truth and lies. Men have been slain before my very eyes while I had the chance to save them, the perfect chance spent frozen in fear. I have seen sickness and good health. I have seen the dark and the light sides of this galaxy—and have shuddered.

From when we were mere children we were taught that the life of a jedi was not an easy path to tread upon. And yet we never dropped out or gave up. We were apprentices, but not for long. Soon, we knew, a master would come for our trial of knighthood so we could rise higher than what we were: orphans who were taught to fight evil. The Force runs through all our veins, stronger in some than in others. We are elite.

But with all gifts are granted responsibility. I can not hope to have more than what has been bestowed upon me by my generous masters, but if I did, I know what I would ask: Why does all the killing continue? Lies. Deceit. Bloodshed.

Blood. I have seen blood. Strewn across the room, a dark nightmarish thing. Death. The burning of loved ones; that stench of burning skin, so putrid and rank and cruel to the nostrils, magnified by the tortured scream of loved ones to which jedi are commanded to not feel compassion for. It hurts. Somewhere inside of me a voice is wailing, screaming, crying out for help. I knew those people. My face longs to feel the sweet stinging of tears fall down my face. Those hot tears. Sad tears. My heart is convulsing as if sick, quivering as if cold, throbbing as if injured. I want this to stop, the pain. I want to flee from these people under my charge, then hide somewhere, anywhere, and sit. Weep. But I know I can’t.

Because jedi don’t cry.

*hugs* Thank you!!!!! I don't normally get those compliments from people because, well, they never really see anything of my work ever. I don't let usually let them. sweatdrop But thank you so much! I'm going to work on it a little, but I'm pretty proud of what's there right now. I edited some but I should probably stop reading it right now or else I'll stop catching all my mistakes. I'll give it a bit.

Were any of the sentences TOO choppy or repetitive? I went through and fixed some that I caught, but there should probably be more. And yes, Star Wars is quite awesome indeed. 3nodding

*cold Stare* you didn't create the story. stare