Love, Death, and the Aging Lady

00: In Cold Blood

The smell of the dead hung like the unwanted stench it was, moaning with each passing soul. This was too familiar to me, but it still succeeded in unsettling my fragile state of mind, remaining youthful amidst the old ways of war.

War, conflict, battle, and blood. Flesh torn by the orders of higher men, boys like myself were to hold the tool of the devil and say 'amen' with each push of the trigger. It was a mercy, releasing the tainted slaves of the trenches from their ill oaths and misplaced faith. Sometimes I would wonder to myself, in a bloody realization: who were the dead? The lifeless corpses on the fields, or the men producing them? Such a philosophy was soon to answer itself, with a harsh price.

My eyes widened in the darkness, and all was still. My uniform no longer wore with earned pride, but slouched in the sins of dirt and destruction. My comrades - no, my fellow prisoners - waited in deadly silence, watching in grave expectance for the signal, a gesture grim enough to sent bullets through my skin. And why should we march to the tune of death? Better to march in certainty than run in cowardice.

The soldier twitched above me upon the raised platform, his visuals fixed upon the enemy trench across the field. It wouldn't be long now, unfortunately for us. My hand brushed carefully across my rifle, and a faint line of dirt traced its path across the cold metal, like writing a confession before commiting another sin. I heard someone mutter to the wind, some form of inaudible curse, and the men began to shift anxiously, looking at one another with those fearful eyes.

I should look on the brightside, it wouldn't be long. Only a sweet kiss of a bullet, and my thoughts would spill out like guts on a battlefield.

The lights came as a startling shock, for I did not expect such a grand opening to something so final. Hands that were once still now gripped tightly to their weapons, and commands were barked in furious motions. Shadows dispersed for our passing, their mocking smiles never fading, still remaining in my mind. The soldier to my right patted my shoulder forcefully, his eyes frantic and desperate.
"Till we meet again," he whispered, and he charged above the line.

All was alive, all was light. Golden sprays of violence illuminated the field as I proceeded forward, charging upon the spectacle. For a few beautiful moments, I was tranced by the art of it all: never had the green of the uniform seemed so vibrant, and the unseen men now became fierce candles, spreading their fire to the opposition.
That was until my left leg exploded in a crimson cascade of pain.

A wail escaped my lips, and the rifle slipped from my grip.

All was dead, all was red. No longer did the light entice me, but it horrified the deepest chasm of my being. Standing amidst the massacre, my leg threatened to collapse in surrender to the oozing wound. But I did no such thing, and my arms widened in embrace to fate. Perhaps I looked much alike a lonesome scarecrow, watching over the seeds of ruin and plague; my uniform betrayed such a lousy disguise, and more bullets ripped through me.

I did not expect to die so slowly, laying amongst my withering friends.

Even breathing became a challenge, and I could only watch the stars pass above me. No sympathy or pity was found that night, and my tears were salted with the lonely action of my death. If only sweet mother could have held my hand, but I no longer had a hand to hold, only mangled flesh and bitter fantasies to pull me into eternity.

The battle raged on, despite my situation, and I listened to the humming of the earth, the crackling of the fires, and the piercing explosions from all around.
"Heh,"

I could not help myself, and the laughing released itself in a hysterical manner.
I died with the last laugh, and I would have been buried with a smile upon my lips if it were not for my continued existence.

I died as a product of conflict, only to live on in the serenity of a continued life. At first, I thought I was in heaven, but heaven only told of one God, not two strangers.