Not all birds are born to fly. Some prefer the safety of their homes, where they know they will never get hurt. Others dream of flying wherever the want to, with no limits. So why do we stick the wild ones into a cage? The birds with dreams of living, not hiding away behind safety. The birds born to fly.
Everything moves slowly. I hear distant screams as men fall to the blood red ground in pain. I aim my gun in front of me as a Pweden soldier closes in on us, green eyes cold with grief. He, too, falls into the crimson lake, drowning in his pain. I'm too numb to feel any guilt, been here too long to feel any shock for the dead bodies surrounding me. It's the same every day. Kill, hide, pick up the dead, sleep.
My mother used to tell me that my blue eyes was a genetic khulish trait, meaning good luck and good blood. The bright colour, along with my dark hair, meant safety. If that was the case, I asked her one night as she lay in her death bed, why has so many of the Khulish died due to the war?
Her response was a shake of the head, before her ice blue eyes that used to stare into my soul turned glassy and her hand turned cold.
"Christopher!" I hear a maddened yell from the General from a distance. Turning around, my heart stops for a second, lodging in my throat at the piles of dead bodies. I knew better than to become their friends; this was predictable. The General and I are the last ones left from 67. It took me 4 years to finally stop myself from crying when the light has gone from the sky. I used to walk into the battlefield, unable to stand the guilt and pain and loneliness I had felt at the time. I could say they were the worst days of my life, when I had nothing left to live for. But if I said that, I would be lying, and Khulish don't lie. It would be betrayal, and I would be hung. And although I'm not enjoying living, I'm also not planning on meeting mother anytime soon.
I greet my only friend with a small nod, reading his mind. I already know what he is going to say; we need to burn the bodies, no doubt he has already counted the bodies. I glance into our shelter to find John- a new soldier, only a couple of weeks old- huddled in a corner, shivering, looking as small as a child. His skin is pale from pure terror and for a second I feel sorry for him. Before he can say anything to me, beg me to let him go home, I walk swiftly towards my leader and best friend, who is already starting a fire. The new army will be joining us tomorrow at dawn, but until then, it's just the 10 of us.
Fortunately, due to all the deaths, we don't have to ration out our supper to the other men. I guess it is the only upside to it all. The tomato soup leaves my body with a warm feeling, as if I have just stepped out of a bath. The memory of such a thing gives me a slight jolt, before I remind myself that the past is never coming back. I am here in the present now, protecting my city. If I even begin to think about my childhood, my world will start crumbling again and I won't ever be getting back up again; which is why I will not let that happen. The smell of smoke from the bodies still lingers in the air like a fly that won't go away. I scrape the remains of my bowl, still hungry even after an extra portion of soup. Finally, I am told to go to sleep. I glance outside and realise with shock that a thick, dark blanket has covered the sky, leaving pinpricks of light peeking through to guide any travellers. The moon outshines all of that, though, like the mother of the stars. Nothing can survive without the moon. I hear an owl hoot, which I know is my call to sleep. Before I close my eyes, I catch that same owl swooping to the ground, a black silhouette of wings and feathers past the moonlit world.
***
I wake up to petrified yells and shouts surrounding me. I jolt up, finding myself alone in my makeshift bed. Everyone is running towards the bomb shelter, sprinting for their lives. Without any more hesitation, I stand up swiftly and follow them. Within seconds, I am drenched in a pouring rain, thunder deafening me. I hear a distant sound, coming closer and louder. I look up to see a... I frown. It looks almost like a giant bomb, only brighter and bigger. With a flutter of panic in my chest, I sprint to the shelter; to find that they have already locked it. The thunder crashes down, making me jump as I scream for them to let me in until it's too late. With a deafening bang, something crashes down into the middle of the battlefield. The ground plummets beneath my feet as I fall through, feeling slightly like Alice in Wonderland. I expect the soil to close in around me, bury me alive, but it doesn't. Somehow, it stays above me, the ground closing up again, leaving a series of tunnel entrances. I frown, before my eyes close and my mind shuts down, leaving me in complete darkness.
***
Hello everyone who has decided to read this! This is just a short sneak peak chapter, so if you are looking forward to any Manxman, keep reading. If not, go somewhere else.
If you have any name ideas, or would like me to use your name for a character, please comment or PM me and I will give you credit. I still need a name for the second main character yet, so there are lots of places open!
If you have any tips or questions, feel free to tell me :)
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Caged Birds
Romance"Not all birds are born to fly. Some prefer the safety of their homes, instead. So why do we cage up the best ones; the ones born wild and free, the ones born to fly?" Christopher has been a part of the war since 67. That's four years. He has grown...
