Black Short Stories : Memories part 1.

Flavia

Well-Known Member
REGISTERED MEMBER
Apr 5, 2014
70
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A very grey city.
Occupation
Lazy person.
I am standing in the most beautiful place in Astedia. Even though I've grown up here, this place never lose its charm. Afterall, it is the only place in Astedia where the sea meets the mountains and the sky is always clear. Taleda, my friend- (well, the majority of the time anyway) seems lost in her own thoughts. From here I can only see her amazing blue hair- I've always kind of envied her for her hair....it reminds me the of the vast sky. And her hair colour is natural.....which is indeed very rare. Isn't it weird what kind of thoughts you have after you've lost everything? Even after I pretty much knew that the battle was over, I've never given up- just the way I've been raised. I've imagined that I will have enough time to mourn for everybody in the end- both those who died trying to kill us and those I had sent myself to die.
But it is strange. I don't really feel anything. I am calm, not angry, furious or even very sad. Strange feelings to have in this situation. I can almost hear the voice of my instructors ,,Be calm- emotions just hinder your abilities. Be rational and calm- this is the only way to survive.Your duty is to succeed in your mission, and you have stay rational and even cold to do this.". And many, many other lessons- how to assess the situation, how to look for alternative ways to finish my task and how to control fear. Just that this no longer matter- we've lost. Despite all our sacrifices, fights and compromises, we've lost. The only solution right now lays right behind my feet- the sea...or the mountains. It really doesn't matter. Many of our people are singing a happy song right before they die- but of course, these people believe they are going to Segolin, the God of fire, war and peace. But this isn't the case with me- I don't believe in Segolin. Neither does Taleda. I've turned around to look at her. She looks like a statue. I'm wondering where her thoughts are. I could ask her, but of course, people must be left with their own thoughts in the last day of their life.
Another image pass through my mind. Is one of a very young guy- he was barely 16 years old. Dark hair, silver eyes, almost ethereal. i remember him because he was one of the very few I've tried to save. He knew nothing about wars or battles but he was more than willing to fight. He truly believed we are going to win over the "bloodthirsty invaders". Well, optimism of the young agem, I guess.I've tried to tell him that war was nothing like he heard in old tales from his village- it was painful, many people die, some stay alive but they wish they've died instead. He was still willing to fight- and my commander rationality took over- we 'had very few volunteers anyway, as no matter what our leaders tried to tell the masses, most people knew the truth. We were vastly outnumbered and they were already in our territories. Few people wanted to be willing sacrifices. So, if he wanted to fight.....well, he will be sent in the fight. Even if it was a pity he was going to die so young. Because I already knew he was going to die. The only question was when.....he died four days later, one of the first killed in a surprise attack. I guess that if Segolin really exists, he will ask me today about him...my only answer would be that I've done what I thought I have to do.
 
For hundreds of years our people have incinerated the bodies of those who died. This have to do with their belief in Segolin- something about the spirit being able to access easier the world of Segolin if the body is incinerated after death. I doubt that this will be my case- people trying to save ttheir life won't stop just to burn thousands of bodies. On the other hand, I have no close people to come looking for my body. The only person that would probably come looking for me is Taleda, but she will also be dead by tomorrow.
Even the image of my parents is blurred. After they sent be to be trained by our Army, when I was just 11 years old, I have never seen them before. I wasn't supposed to see them either- those who are sent to be trained as warriors leave their old life behind. Family, friends, house, even the village. Forever. Obviously, when they sent me to the Army, there was no way to imagine this war. Our places enjoyed a long period of peace, and my parents, just like many other poor people saw the Army as an oportunity for us to be respected and why not, rich. It is commun knowledge that quite a few warriors ended up being very rich men and women. All depended on hard work, courage and loyality. I wonder if my parents are still alive.....maybe I even have a sister or a brother somewhere. Hard to believe, as poor people rarely have more than one child, but not impossible. Maybe my parents needed someone to help them in their old age after I've left them.
For some reasons, I wonder if they would be proud of me. Maybe- i've fought till the end, and most people know to respect this. On the other hand, maybe they wouldn't be so pleased to know that I've been given the command of two units whose main task was to be sure that those who were left by the enemy as dead or indeed dead. It sounds cruel, but this was the most logical decision. Afterall, as my instructor told me, our warriors barely have food and medicine for themselves, how could we keep prisoners? Still, it was a bit difficult in the beginning to kill an unarmed person- but after a time it became just routine.It was something that has to be done.Of course, every time we were there we were hoped to find one of ours still alive. The real nightmare was to find one of our own there-still alive but beyond what our medicine could cure. No matter how many times I've been told there were not murders, but rather mercy killings, it didn't make this job easy- it couldn't be easy to watch a person you've been talking with maybe one day age and kill him or her. Even if I believe some of them knew there was no hope for them. As with everything, time did make this task easier, but never easy.
 

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