Here's a short story I wrote - it's Bionicle related, but I think you'll like it even if you don't understand/like Bionicle.
The broken warrior emerged weakly, but somehow majestically, from the murky water. The moonlight flashed off the sea's surface, lighting the shoreline. The warrior choked on the seawater, before heaving himself out of the water and slumping himself onto the shore. He gradually crawled up the sandy beach, choking. The shadiness of the night hid his erratically deformed armour from any creature's eyes. His usually fiery red eyes were now dim, his once formidable teeth now broken and rotting. His full-body armour was scratched from a thousand battles - all but one of which he had won - for in his last battle, he had faced the ones he cared for most - the Matoran themselves. The warrior coughed once again as he lay on the shore, wet and ruined. It was peaceful now. No noise was heard but the waves washing the beach, and the soft cries of birds from the trees above. Where he was now didn't matter. He knew that here he could rest and recover from his dark reign.
The moon had dominated the sky, until the sun had appeared, and the moon retreated. The warrior's rest had comforted his troubled mind, and now he awoke. His eyelids slowly opened, and he looked at the sand, before his eyes scattered about to see where he was. As if in a sudden realization, he jumped up, holding his hands in front of him regaining his balance. Ahead of him was a tropical forest. Birds fluttered from tree to tree singing happily. The warrior smiled, and trudged towards the forest, muttering one word in joy:
'Artakha'
Yeah...it is short.
TT