dreamsbegone
03-16-2006, 11:16 AM
30 Days of Siege
behold the deeds of your hands. God has it all, god knows it all. Betrayal never finds its way out of the dark woods inside its holder. Even if it did, it will be besieged by guilt and penitence.
* * *
((Sounds of shelling and cannons were the only music we were going to listen to this night)) thought the young soldier remembering Bach and Schubert's symphonies which he used to listen to. He remembered his house where his old wooden piano laid. His father taught him to play when he was a little boy. He was not an aristocratic high-classed member ,nay, he wouldn't have been sent to war if he was. He was a man who loved beautiful art, real art. It has been 29 days since they were besieged by enemy troops. They were few on supplies. They were outnumbered. They knew that this was their last night and what a wonderful night it was. Full-mooned with cold breeze. It was only disturbed by the sounds of guns. Their trench was large. It was more of a cave than a trench. They were only 10 encouraged by the hope of seeing their homes again and smelling roses now that they only smelled dust and blood. There was no pleasant sight at all. Only corps and rotten dead bodies.
- a strange feeling it is when you know that you won't live to see another sunshine. I wish I could live to feel the sun or to walk with my bare feet on my farm again.
Said a man who was lying on the ground by the young soldier. He was badly shot in his left leg. His odds of surviving were few. They new that his leg was gangrened. It was rotten. They knew by its smell.
- that's my leg beating me to grave.
He added. They wrapped his leg with the few bandages they had. A big build man sat there embracing his rifle in his lap. No one said anything. They were all thinking. Some were saying their prayers.
- we are not going to make it.
Said the big guy. He surprised every one. They thought he was stronger than breaking down. He seemed a rough one.
- I am not ever going to see my wife or my to beautiful kids.
A tear came down his cheeks. He let his hand into his pocket and grabbed a picture. It was of his wife and his two little daughters. It is funny how war changes people. It softens hearts and strengthens them in the same time. The only thing they all wanted was to survive the night. But who are they kidding. All the factors were against them. Time was passing slow. The young man was turning pale. You could hear his heartbeats from a mile.
- why do they send us to war?
He said.
- why don't they fight? Are they better than us? They only sit to their fancy desks all day long smoking cigars and listening to music. They think that we are their toy soldiers. But we have our lives and families. Don't we?
No one answered for they didn't know what to say. It was 2000 o'clock. The thought of death terrified them. The fact of not existing. Every time they thought of it they would see a black nothing. Emptiness and cool, yes , that's what they saw not knowing that death is only a portal to another existence. They were all floating in seas of thoughts and memories. There was a writer amongst them. It was a good situation to be imitated in a story but he was way too confused and frightened for writing a story. One of them was whistling. The sound could barely come out of his mouth. That's war. Fear pain and no use.
The young one looked at his hands. They were mud covered and there was dirt under his nails. He wondered if he would be able to play if he was ever to escape this. He wasn't used to the atmosphere of war. He couldn't stand sitting there doing nothing. He stood up and began to wander around. Once he came back to sit he heard something but the sound was gone for a while then he heard another sound but this time it was clear and loud. They all heard it and they all knew what it was. Tanks, enemy tanks. Every one of the soldiers put his hand on his rifle. The injure man said.
- they are here, aren't they? I knew I would never come back home when I left.
- Shut up old man.
Said one of the soldier in a high commanding sound but it you could tell that his sound hid flittering and that it was a cover for great awe. Their commanding officer was dead so they didn't know what to say.
- let's surrender.
Said the big man.
- I didn't come here to surrender. Non of you did. You know that even if we do surrender they will kill us anyway so If I was to die then I will die defending myself and only myself.
Answered the young man. They agreed on going out and fighting to death. It was a hard decision but they took it anyway. The injured man stayed in his place for he couldn't get up. Once they went out they heard a hard noise of explosions. They didn't know what it was. They thought it was the sound of tank shelling but nothing was near them. They saw lights in the horizon. Fire of bombing and they also heard sounds of flights. They first thought they were enemy flights but then they realized that they were theirs. Help was there at last. They were saved by a miracle. They couldn't believe it. Joy made its way through their grim faces. A smile finally emerged in their faces and hatred rose inside of them. Hatred for those who sent them there, who made them become so close to the edge of death and made them face their worst fear.
The young man happily rushed into the trench. He wanted to tell his friends that they would live to witness another birth or to feel the cold breeze on the shores of the sea. He was so happy that he couldn't stop laughing. He approached the old hurt man and led his hand on his shoulder. His eyes were closed and his head was back.
- we are saved, my friend. We are free to do outside, to run in the wild again.
But their was no answer. He was disappointed.
- come on my friend wake up. It is over. We are not going to die today.
A tone of sadness began to show up in his voice. Then tears began to fall heavily from his eyes. He was crying. He went up stepping heavily. Step by step. In every step you could feel sadness and sorrow. He arrived the plane and got now that every thing is gone. He sat by the window then felt it take off. He looked at the ruinous place one more time as it was trapped by fire.
behold the deeds of your hands. God has it all, god knows it all. Betrayal never finds its way out of the dark woods inside its holder. Even if it did, it will be besieged by guilt and penitence.
* * *
((Sounds of shelling and cannons were the only music we were going to listen to this night)) thought the young soldier remembering Bach and Schubert's symphonies which he used to listen to. He remembered his house where his old wooden piano laid. His father taught him to play when he was a little boy. He was not an aristocratic high-classed member ,nay, he wouldn't have been sent to war if he was. He was a man who loved beautiful art, real art. It has been 29 days since they were besieged by enemy troops. They were few on supplies. They were outnumbered. They knew that this was their last night and what a wonderful night it was. Full-mooned with cold breeze. It was only disturbed by the sounds of guns. Their trench was large. It was more of a cave than a trench. They were only 10 encouraged by the hope of seeing their homes again and smelling roses now that they only smelled dust and blood. There was no pleasant sight at all. Only corps and rotten dead bodies.
- a strange feeling it is when you know that you won't live to see another sunshine. I wish I could live to feel the sun or to walk with my bare feet on my farm again.
Said a man who was lying on the ground by the young soldier. He was badly shot in his left leg. His odds of surviving were few. They new that his leg was gangrened. It was rotten. They knew by its smell.
- that's my leg beating me to grave.
He added. They wrapped his leg with the few bandages they had. A big build man sat there embracing his rifle in his lap. No one said anything. They were all thinking. Some were saying their prayers.
- we are not going to make it.
Said the big guy. He surprised every one. They thought he was stronger than breaking down. He seemed a rough one.
- I am not ever going to see my wife or my to beautiful kids.
A tear came down his cheeks. He let his hand into his pocket and grabbed a picture. It was of his wife and his two little daughters. It is funny how war changes people. It softens hearts and strengthens them in the same time. The only thing they all wanted was to survive the night. But who are they kidding. All the factors were against them. Time was passing slow. The young man was turning pale. You could hear his heartbeats from a mile.
- why do they send us to war?
He said.
- why don't they fight? Are they better than us? They only sit to their fancy desks all day long smoking cigars and listening to music. They think that we are their toy soldiers. But we have our lives and families. Don't we?
No one answered for they didn't know what to say. It was 2000 o'clock. The thought of death terrified them. The fact of not existing. Every time they thought of it they would see a black nothing. Emptiness and cool, yes , that's what they saw not knowing that death is only a portal to another existence. They were all floating in seas of thoughts and memories. There was a writer amongst them. It was a good situation to be imitated in a story but he was way too confused and frightened for writing a story. One of them was whistling. The sound could barely come out of his mouth. That's war. Fear pain and no use.
The young one looked at his hands. They were mud covered and there was dirt under his nails. He wondered if he would be able to play if he was ever to escape this. He wasn't used to the atmosphere of war. He couldn't stand sitting there doing nothing. He stood up and began to wander around. Once he came back to sit he heard something but the sound was gone for a while then he heard another sound but this time it was clear and loud. They all heard it and they all knew what it was. Tanks, enemy tanks. Every one of the soldiers put his hand on his rifle. The injure man said.
- they are here, aren't they? I knew I would never come back home when I left.
- Shut up old man.
Said one of the soldier in a high commanding sound but it you could tell that his sound hid flittering and that it was a cover for great awe. Their commanding officer was dead so they didn't know what to say.
- let's surrender.
Said the big man.
- I didn't come here to surrender. Non of you did. You know that even if we do surrender they will kill us anyway so If I was to die then I will die defending myself and only myself.
Answered the young man. They agreed on going out and fighting to death. It was a hard decision but they took it anyway. The injured man stayed in his place for he couldn't get up. Once they went out they heard a hard noise of explosions. They didn't know what it was. They thought it was the sound of tank shelling but nothing was near them. They saw lights in the horizon. Fire of bombing and they also heard sounds of flights. They first thought they were enemy flights but then they realized that they were theirs. Help was there at last. They were saved by a miracle. They couldn't believe it. Joy made its way through their grim faces. A smile finally emerged in their faces and hatred rose inside of them. Hatred for those who sent them there, who made them become so close to the edge of death and made them face their worst fear.
The young man happily rushed into the trench. He wanted to tell his friends that they would live to witness another birth or to feel the cold breeze on the shores of the sea. He was so happy that he couldn't stop laughing. He approached the old hurt man and led his hand on his shoulder. His eyes were closed and his head was back.
- we are saved, my friend. We are free to do outside, to run in the wild again.
But their was no answer. He was disappointed.
- come on my friend wake up. It is over. We are not going to die today.
A tone of sadness began to show up in his voice. Then tears began to fall heavily from his eyes. He was crying. He went up stepping heavily. Step by step. In every step you could feel sadness and sorrow. He arrived the plane and got now that every thing is gone. He sat by the window then felt it take off. He looked at the ruinous place one more time as it was trapped by fire.