Again, might be some offensive things, although it's highly unlikely. I don't know why I'm focused on a lot of war things these days. ^_^;
Soldier
Dont play with that.
Why not?
The kid sneered. I blinked calmly, voice straining.
Its dangerous.
He merely held onto the sturdy handle stubbornly, shaking his defiant eyes at me.
No its not. Its just a stick.
It was true. It was a simple wooden stick, with roughly bent edges, vaguely resembling what looked like a gun. He smiled mischievously.
And Im going to shoot you with it!
The battle field was silent and desolate with a heavy tone lingering in the air. The quavering man held up his only means of weapon, hands trembling.
You wouldnt, the other one retorted with fear ringing through his voice.
Yes I will.
Bang, bang, bang!
I jerked out of my sudden vision, startled, watching the kid mimic a guns sound. His battle stance was odd and crooked, holding the stick as defense.
Youre dead! he crowed impishly.
Dead.
The other man in front of him was dead. Lying eagle spread with crimson liquid gushing out from the side, the man was dead. His milky white orbs rolled up to greet the blue sky one last time. Limp hands clung onto a family portrait, of a slender woman holding a little boy making a face at the camera.
Whats the matter with you? Again, that small voice interrupted angrily. The kid was jabbing me with the stick. His face was scrutinized in annoyance.
Youre supposed to fall and pretend youre choking! He let out an exasperated sigh at my black face. Like this.
He dropped the gun and staggered back a few feet, purposely collapsing onto the ground, face contorted in pain. Out of his throat came a deep, dying voice that wailed out helplessly. His legs twitched as they knocked into each other, trembling violently.
Help!
The young boy kneeled over his father, who was lifelessly decaying under the beating sun. Troubled eyes searched the deep gash, hands trying their best to caress the rough prickles of his chin out of old habit.
He isnt waking up, he quivered. I tried, I really did, but my dadhe
Thats enough now, son, a gentle voice soothed. Two strong hands picked him up, feeling the child lurch into his chest, spraying tears. He isnt coming back. Hes dead.
Youre lying, the uncanny childish voice broke down fiercely, pounding futilely on the hard surface of the mans chest. You arent telling me what really happened! Please tell me. Ill be good, really! You arent
playing with me!
Hmm? I eyed the kid again who had given up his little act, obviously due to the lack of attention, pouting as he crossed his arms.
I said you arent playing with me!
He sighed, dejectedly picking up the scarred stick. With a heave, he flung it hard on the ground, handing me his best evil glare.
Thanks a lot, mister. You dont know how to play Soldier, do you? he huffed.
Soldier? I questioned. He nodded furiously.
Oh well, not like you know
thanks for your time, anyway.
Dejection rang through the boys ears. His eyes became a wild plea.
Please! Ill do my best to serve the country, I can do it, Im not little, and Im not His voice faltered off at the shake of a head.
Nine is too young, son. Im glad you want to become a soldier, but theres an age limit here. Maybe when youre older, hmm? The man impatiently waved his hands around as a hand of dismissal, busily picking up the phone.
The boy walked away, silent, feeling dead.
Solitude prevailed.
I watched the kid stalk off, irritated by how I had not responded to his play. With a contemplative look, I quietly picked up the stick he had thrown. I stood there, thinking, suppressing tears.
I know how to play, I smiled sadly at the distant, fingering the rough surface of the wood.
You just dont know what Soldier really means.
(◕ ‿‿ ◕) PM me for a contract.