A lost work (part 1)

Haha.. guess what, when i was clearing my things today, I found a piece of script... some draft for a novel that i written back when i was in the army, but somehow i missed this piece out and forgot to complete it.

As i read it, i found it somewhat amusing. i oso realise that it is in fact consist of real life events forced into a fantastical setting... I would say close to 95% of it is true, but the characters and the chronological order of events are messed up sometimes. For people who recognise parts of the story, remininsce, for those who dun, just read it like a novel. I will type it out in parts, when im feeling boliao. Forgive me for the lousy language, this is a draft and im to lazy to correct it. here goes part 1:

CHAPTER 1

He pulled at the bowstring, his muscles straining with the effort.

He had always had a special flair for archery. Guided by his instincts, his arrows had always managed to hit the desired target. Yet he did not attend any special lessons on archery, on how to handle a bow, how to aim, or how to shoot. Somehow, he just knew, as if it was an innate part of him.

When he concentrated, it seems as if he had the ability to call the target to his face. The target board now appeared largely magnified in front of his squinting eyes. The straws of the board, woven in a regular yet intricate pattern; the respledent paints of bright red and white in concentric circles bearing a hypnotising effect on his sleepy eyes.

Despite his consciousness gradually slipping and sleeping away, he still managed to focus on the target. Instantly, he knew what angle he should fire his projectile at, the precise direction, the exact strength in which he should release in firing the arrow. Yet, he hesistated in firing the shot.

He doubt if he had the exact strength in his thin arms to execute the motion. Normally, he would just have been able to muster enough strength to hit the target. But the situation is different now. His arms were tired from the gruelling swordplay training and physical conditioning earlier on. Quivering convulsively from the physical exertion, it seems as if his muscles will collapse completely.

Beads of sweat trickled down his forehead, partly due to the merciless sun, partly due to his weakening arms. The metal helmet seemed so heavy and uncomfortable for him, and he was suddenly acutely aware of how wet his body was. Uncounsciously, he licked his lips as if expecting to find water to quench his overpowering thirst. Salty.

He spat on the ground. He knew he could not hesistate anymore, or he would definitely be unable to hit the target. Indecisiveness, he thought. Isnt this what caused so many troubles in the first place? The rift between him and Faith; the drifting apart of him and who used to be his best confidant, Nina; the financial problems he is having now. He hated his indecisiveness, he hated himself.

With a grunt of resignation, he released the taut bow.