Hey guys, I just wrote a really strange story that's in need of some editing. It was one of those visions that just takes hold of you and refuses to let go until you write it down. Its a bit expirimental. Anyways...the first draft is posted below if you're interested. My first drafts are pretty rough, so I appologize for the crazy structure and perhaps stunk&white applicable errors.

(side note: anybody here a student of kendo? I know Fiss is...and I need a few bits of information to help me write this. You'll see what i mean.)

They met on a barren plateau that arced over the ocean and crashing rocks. The skies had already begun to grow dark. The falling heavens were lit with traces of fateful fire while the great cities of man cried out for forgiveness. The young man and young woman were too far from civilization to hear the terrified screams of their loved ones- but they felt them.
The girl stepped tentatively towards her love, the sound of her footfalls on the soft grass lost in the sound of crashing waves. She would not let herself cry, but closed her emerald eyes and rested her head on the boy?s chest. No words of greeting were needed; their sorrow was silent.
After several moments, however, she had to ask. ?Why?? Everyone else in the word was asking different questions: What? ? How? When? But these did not matter to the two standing atop the cliff face. Those questions had never mattered. Only the question of why this had befallen them hung in their minds with dark persistence. It was the only real question.
The young man stared off into the hellish skies. ?God wants to start anew,? he softly intoned. His breath sent a mist into her hair.
?To hell with god,? she whispered harshly into his shirt, gripping it with white knuckles. He nodded and lifted her chin, looking into her eyes.
He repeated, ?To he hell with god? as their lips met. The girl could not hold back the few tears that trailed down her face. Her skin was pale and pristine in the yellow-orange light.
The man stepped back from her, his hands on her shoulders. He saw that she still wore her hakama from her kendo class. She must have started driving the moment he called. Her wooden practice sword was still slung across her back, as was his. They rarely took them off- a symbol of their twin passions in life.
?I can?t help thinking,? she began, ?what will happen to my family when-?
He tried to cut her off with another embrace, but she pulled away. ?These could be the last moments in our lives, and I don?t want to spend them in silence!? Her green eyes flared angrily for a moment, emitting the same brilliance the man was so used to seeing while she deflected the blows of a sword. It lasted only for a moment. She looked apologetic at her outburst- she did not want to spend her last moments yelling at the man she loved either. ?Maybe you can, but I can?t,? she finished.
He smiled. It was not the dead smile of a doomed man, nor the false gesture of one trying to ignore the inevitable. This smile was full of life. It was a rose blooming in a barren desert. In the smile was defiance. The young woman looked at him silently, an unbearable desire to feel the same feeling haunting her face, an aching to climb out of her despair shivering in her clenched fists.
?What is it?? she asked.
?I found a better way to spend the time.?
The young man took her by the hand, leading her quietly towards the cliff edge. He looked down at the way he placed his hand on her back, and recognized it as the same way he had always imagined himself leading her away from some future wedding chapel. He knew now that such a day would never come; at least, not in this world. He led her to the highest point above the ocean, where a large roll of black cloth lay waiting for them. The young man held the bundle in his arms, slowly unrolling it to reveal what was held inside. Two identical katanas lay side by side, the flawless steel blades glinting in the light. The girl?s mouth opened slightly as he took her hand and ran it slowly across the sword closest to her.
?T-these are Sensae Rouyji?s?? she stuttered.
The boy nodded. ?I knew he wouldn?t be needing them.? He watched her for a moment, knowing that for one smallest fraction of a moment, the gift he had brought her had made her forget even the end of the world.
?Go ahead,? he whispered, ?pick it up.? His words had the promise of strength.
The woman looked up at him, her eyes shimmering with tears. She had always wanted to hold a sword like the one resting below her. Thoughts of how she had used to imagine it brought shivers to her. The loss of the future was too much to comprehend. A vicious roar rang from the distant skies- it was death. She closed her eyes and picked up the object of her life?s ambition. It was almost weightless in her hand. She gracefully lifted it and turned her back to the man, practicing strokes gracefully. The beauty of the weapon parted the waters of terror in her mind. The more she concentrated on her form, the less they threatened to spill back over. The young woman turned back to thank her love, but found him standing several feet away, holding the other identical blade in ready position.

Silence.

He watched her, his expression playful, his eyes bright and sad.
?I?ve waited a lifetime for this?? he said. The girl was not surprised by his action. Somehow, in the back of her mind, she had known she would find him there when she turned back around.

Silence.

?We both have,? she answered. She looked at that swordsman, that love, standing in that familiar stance, and couldn?t bring herself to raise the sword just yet.
?Wait?please?? she asked quietly, laying down the katana, ?let me hold you one last time.? She closed her eyes to stop the tears, and when she opened them, his arms were around her one last time. She looked up into his eyes.
?We?ll meet in the afterlife, wont we? Our time isn?t over? God will allow us our time together, wont he??
He did not hesitate. ?Yes. He will.? She pulled him close, grasping his shirt more tightly than ever before, trying to be closer to him than was physically possible. The sky raged, letting loose another roar. It was closer now.
?Come now,? said the man, ?I don?t know how much time we have.?
The girl brought his head down to hers, and gave what was to be the final kiss.
?I love you!? she cried into his face.
?And I you!? he shouted, his eyes looking into the sky, daring god to intervene. He released her and stepped back, retrieving his sword.
?Enguard!? he shouted.
She picked up the sword, her eyes blazing passionately, and pointed it at him in graceful challenge. He ran and swung. Steel clashed more loudly than the waves or the sky ever could. The girl dared him to touch her, her sword lost in a flurry of motion, deflecting the precise, unrelenting attacks of her lover. And so they battled, moving across the plateau, their feet pounding the grass, their arms quivering with exertion. The two danced across the horizon, locked in a deadly dance of affection. They screamed keyaes more loudly than ever, aiming them defiantly at the heavens. Small wounds accumulated. The two only intensified the onslaught. Occasionally one, overwhelmed by loving memories of the other, would fall to a knee. The other would wait patiently until their fight could resume. The orange in the sky became brighter, falling closer with every moment bringing unnatural flame nearer and nearer to the two.
Eventually, a bright flash came from overhead. The man looked up to the threatening spectacle while, as if by fate, the girl took him by surprise with a blow to the hip. He staggered, blood pouring from the wound. He let out no cry of pain, keeping his sword level. She lowered her weapon, tears welling up in her eyes.
?Please,? she said eventually, ?please keep standing. I don?t want to win.?
The man supported his weight on the sword, and looking up through the hair fallen in front of his face, nodded. With a great shout he hefted the weapon above his head and continued, the blood flowing freely. The sky was red now- it was getting dark. He let one arm hang free and attacked with the other, dismissing the limits of his body and moving with self-destructive speed. The girl blocked over and over, sweat running down her face. She panted and screamed with effort, counter attacking and slicing a second gash in her loves shoulder. He continued without notice, stumbling from blood loss dizzily continuing the fight. She stepped left, trying to move around him, yet lowered her weapon just long enough for him to send his blade plunging into her side. She cried out in pain and strange pleasure, close enough now to throw her arms around him. It was so dark now. The roaring of the earth was nearly deafening- they were surely the only ones left alive by now. Through the dark, searing heat and noise, the man and his love stumbled to the cliff edge. They couldn?t hear each other?s words, and didn?t need to. He leaned forward and kissed her one last time as light flashed overhead, illuminating the vivid landscape. They threw themselves over the edge towards the blue water, holding each other in a killing embrace. They fell for an eternity, away from the cruel sky, praying for a quick reunion.
Neither screamed.

Nice description. Very poetic. Like a kamikaze haku. Reminds me of Mishima but not annoyingly depressing. Mishima's characters mostly came off as afraid of life and tried to justify their deaths. These to seem to throw themselves at life, even in the face of death. They way they do it I don't think many people in this day and age would get of course most these day would probably just want to get stoned or screw in the face of the end of the world.

But I like it. Write more.

"and if there's nothing left to die for
and all this our beauty is just decay
and if there's nothing left to die for
then you and me
let's go out going all the way"
--Matthew Good Band
"Going All The Way"

I appreciate the praise...im suprised you enjoyed a first draft so much. I'm cringing as I read it over (a ceremony for rereading by now). Anyways, thanks for the comments. Drop me a line if you ever need some proofreading.

Some things you did bothered me somewhat--whenever you use quotations (even repetitions), they should be part of a new paragraph, and should have their own punctuation.

It was alright, not really my cup of tea, but still pretty good--Draxel was right in saying that you have poetic language. I look forward to seeing the final draft.