Personification - Creative Writing 7

All was quiet in the large home of metal, packed full with its gleaming guests that remained oh so silent.  Many lay, sleeping soundly as their sharp edges glisten in a pale moonlight.  They all needed their rest, as tomorrow would be a new day of bloodshed and dents in their slick steel.

They stayed, aligning as their caretakers had placed them.  The flamethrower, dreaming of the battlefield.  The faint hissing it would emit as flames shot forth from its mouth.  Beside him comfortably sat his ally, the simple fire ax.  It dreamt of the events soon to come, the time when it would dance through the air at the will of its fire-loving master.

Near to the brothers of fire lay the weapons of two others as they slept comfortably.  The 500 kg being of cold skin, named Sasha by her keeper, turned slightly with a dull click.  At her side was the explosive rocket launcher, whom could spit rockets from its mouth with ease.

Not too far, sitting comfortably on a shelf, was a simple bat of metal.  Its skin was smooth, as though it had just been crafted, despite having destroyed many skulls in its wake.  The dried blood had been washed from its gleaming skin, as it looked brand new.

Though, despite all of the cozy weapons near one another, one preferred to stay alone.  All the way in the freshly cleaned corner sat a being not meant for hurting, but instead for healing.  Its cold metal shell held back its carefully constructed insides.  It was a very important part of the group, as it kept the other tools’ keepers alive long enough to make use of them.  Even so, it wasn’t for killing, and was therefore ‘different’ in the eyes of the others.  But pride was taken in that difference, pride that overwhelmed the feeling of separation, and delighted the Medi-gun as it slept soundly, awaiting the morning when it could assist the Medic once more.