[ WP ] all the scene happens from the moment a character drops a sword to the moment it lands on the ground

The sword rattles in my hand, yanking itself free from my untrained grasp. I strain for it even as my wrist aches, hoping to catch it before it hits the ground. There ’ s a flash of silver and a spray of red, coming from my hands. The pain doesn ’ t hit, my mind not contemplating the loss of a hand quite yet. 
 
 I can see my wife. She ’ s crying. Cradling our dead child and crying. Screaming in anger does no good, screaming for the death of those who killed my child does no good. Weeks later, I was in the same position, cradling her and crying. She had claimed there was nothing to live for. As long as we live, there is revenge to be taken. 
 
 I ’ m still reaching for the sword. With my stump and with my empty other hand. It ’ s the only thing that can save me. It ’ s too close to the ground for comfort. The pain of my lost hand hits me at that moment, all my nerves screaming in agony that my hand is gone. Another portion reports that there ’ s something in my chest, in my heart. 
 
 I taste blood. I remember tasting it that day too, when he struck me with the pommel of his blade. Claimed a few teeth were ‘ lucky ’ compared to being dead, that I was destined to kowtow and so were my children and those after them. I don ’ t blame Peter for swinging at him. I blame the asshole for coming back later just to murder him. 
 
 The sword pulls out of my chest and there ’ s a pain across my neck, reaching me quicker. I gasp in a breath. It doesn ’ t feel like it reaches anything. Everything goes black as the sword clatters across the ground as I seem to chase it.
