When the fog passed reluctantly from the field it revealed a field of dead soldiers. Some with missing heads, arms, and legs. Yet one man standing alone on a hill was the last man standing. He, in search his wife, found not a living soul left on the field. He had been searching for two years for his wife, unaware of the fact that she was dead. Still the persistent man and his family pushed on this long joinery. You of all people, the only people, know his hunt, struggle, his life is in vain. Yet he in not giving up on his wife, for he knows the true feeling of love. The true feeling of being loved. Yet he of other the other people in this story are not only fighting for his life, he is fighting for the lives that he loves.
I will tell this story because I was not only the few people helping him look for his wife, but I was his only son. But I will tell this story because I want to relive his life in my own words. Because I want his memory of his life to be remembered. How he risked everything because of true love.
"Dad, I'm sorry, but it has been a long time since we last saw mother." said I, "How do we even know that she is still alive?"
"DON'T SAY THAT!" My father yelled. "I would go to the end of the earth for her. She was my life, my soul... My love." Here we go again. My father could have go on for hours, but of course we don't have that much time. For mostly we alone may have been the last humans alive.
But of course my father didn't believe that we were the only ones. Only because we have seen life here and there. At a store we saw a dead man laying on the floor. Me, not knowing who he was sat by him and turned him over. Dad must have known who because he just walked out. But with the world this way, I couldn't remember anyone.
We passed over a small hill and on the other side we saw smoke. Real smoke.... It was a shock for us
