When flowers and grass grow again

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: War and Military  |  House: Booksie Classic
A peaceful man has been sent to war during the dark ages. During the last night before the bloody war, his blood runs fast and his own nature urges him to realize the difference between right and wrong.

Submitted: November 02, 2013

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Submitted: November 02, 2013

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From the distance, we saw the enemy lined up like a forest of men with spears, shields and swords. The evening sun reflected orange and other colors off their equipment making a moment to remember. The white horse I rode had no intention of looking upwards but walked with only a low and heavy face. Flowers grew here and there between the rocky lands we crossed because it was spring; adding colour to perhaps what could have been my last sights. I was never a fighter and my mother never wanted me to be one either. My earliest memory of my mother is her walking across grass fields separating our house from the river with a basket of fish in the far outskirts of our kingdom. It was a time of peace when the weather seemed to be always perfect back when I was a child, but now that I am 25 and that I ride my horse to distant locations, the weather changes too often.

The combat was not to start till tomorrow morning, but all were prepared for surprise attacks. However, we were all sure that this wouldn’t happen as we were fighting a kingdom that we were once good friends with. Our army decided it would be safe to rest up, boil water for tea and enjoy each other’s company before the war the next morning. I always loved to explore new land, so I took my time to enjoy the different views from around and look at the flowers that were about to blossom. Sensitive, like a girl is to her look in a sleeping river, was my attention to flowers and how they grow. I must have gotten this off my mother, and for that I am grateful. When darkness fell, I began to boil another pot of water because I fell nervous and needed something to calm me down. Some of the men were already sleeping under their enormous fur blankets by then, but others were still getting drunk and laughing under the stars. 

It took me four hours to fall asleep because waves of thought kept splashing into my mind. I thought to myself there must be someone across this plain that we will fight upon tomorrow that thinks and worries just like I do. There’s got to be good hearted men there, perhaps too scared and nervous of exterior opinion to show that they don’t want to fight just like myself. Time was passing by fast and so did my dreams that I eventually dreamt. I only remember one dream; I had an aerial view of a pack of wolves hunting a lone deer in a tall forest during the heart of winter. The sky was just turning dark and the skinny blood thirsty wolves were gaining on the deer, when one of the wolves slowly stopped while the others continued running. The clouds were moving fast and a deadly snow storm was well on it's way towards the north, in the same direction where the others were running off into.That is when I woke up to the sound of my friend who had been drinking just a few hours ago sharpening his sword in front of a small fire. The fire was spreading light and shadows on his dirty face and his eyes were glassy. At that moment, I felt fear that has been never understood by me until then, it was the fear of war. 

- Brother, I am sorry if the sound I make bothers your sleep. Sometimes I need to do something with my hands to think properly. I guess the simple gesture of sharpening my sword helps me think straight. Anyways, I was planning on taking a look around the plains where we're supposed to meet with the enemy to battle. I want to breathe the soft air with ease and peace before I breathe it in heavily with fear during battle. 

 With out saying aword and not really having a clue on what else to do with the remaining few hours before the war, I nodded and we both made our way to the plains on our horses. I didn’t bring any weapon; all I brought with me was a large fur blanket I wore. We were able to see the few distant bonfires of the enemies; they must have also been drinking tea and eating whatever good food they brought with them. It was of course too dark for them to notice us two though. The cold but soft wind hinted that we should be sleeping. Clouds were floating fast in the sky across the full moon and for the first time in my life, the forever morphing nature of earth to me seemed to be an action of meditation in itself. Why should I be different to this harmony earth plays I thought to myself. How could I look into the enemy’s eye tomorrow? I do not even know the man and yet I vow to kill him. Many ideas raced through my mind, and I was sure my friend was going through the same thing. It’s as if all my intellect arose at this time, and it was at this time as well that the few violet flowers beside me started to blossom. 

I write this now in my mother’s home ten days later, in the comfort of a candle lit room with the curious nightly breeze sweeping through the window. I do not know who won the war, for it does not matter, I am sure that i'm never allowed back into their kingdom. I plan on riding on my horse the same route to where the war took place sometime soon in search of what beautiful views I must have missed while I was lost in my head, riding on a tired horse to what could of been my end. 

 

 


© Copyright 2019 Mark Samoilovich. All rights reserved.

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