#icwriting

[inspired-character]

writing prompt n°9

An American soldier is stationed near Nazi Germany, but faces a dilemma when he begins to fall in love with a young woman who comes from a family in the upper rankings of the Nazi party. He has two choices: leave her and continue fighting the war, or persuade her to abandon the Nazis.

[talan-dracht]

The things you’ll see out there, it’s beyond anything you’ve seen. It holds so much more beyond these simple... things.  That voice rang out in his head, echoing among the deep passages of the cavern that seemed to eventually lead into oblivion itself. A slow exhale as he sat on the edge of that platform, eyes watching the hidden, yet babbling creek that ran below him. It had been years since he had seen the Old Man. Years since he harbored doubts about his journey, his training, or simply doubts about himself. Well, no, that last one hadn’t been so long. A stone was traced with his fingers, metallic surface grinding down the pebble back to almost base nothingness as he attempted to search meaning within that void. It had been an eternity since he attempted to discern what the meaning of his training was. What he was supposed to do in life. Why he held onto the only piece of advice that’s isolated him more and more from those he’s met. The fingers relaxed their pressure as the stone dropped into that chasm, sawllowed by the void, and returned no answers. A long exhale followed that only served to further the silence he already sat in.  “I wish I understood.” A wish, a fantasy, a constructed fake reality that he could place himself in. Somewhere he was smarter, somewhere he was stronger. Somewhere he was braver. Somewhere he belonged. His head dipped ever so slightly as he began to laugh in that old ruin. The damp cavern mixed with dusty stone that resultedi n the fueling of the dread that seemed to encompass his entire being. Smile for the world, because no-one else will. Her words were like a fire for the moth to come. A guiding beacon in that thick fog that had providd him direction for all of these years. But here? In this moment? He couldn’t smile. He couldn’t smile for the bats that lay dormant, watching him. He couldn’t smile for the abyss that greeted him with open arms from below. He couldn’t even smile for himself. “If you’re happy, they’ll be happy. When you smile, they will smile. Y’jus’ ‘ave ta take th’ step ta change ‘em all, Talan.” His voice, nearly dead in his throats, turned into a loud whisper as it bounced along the cavern’s walls.  A single breath. “Things can change, ya jus’ ‘ave ta be th’ first step they choose ta be.” He had absentmindedly grinded down another pebble, pasuing the action as his mind drifted back to reality. He slowly stood up as he allowed it to drop over the edge. A truth he believed for so many years. A truth that was his defining piece of advice he kept close to his heart for his entire lifespan. He dusted himself off, tightened the straps on his armor, and began to journey deeper down the cavern. All those years I held that truth close to me. How many of them were simply a lie I never wanted to admit?

[troublesome--trainee-blog]

So Many...

A frown worked it's way upon his pale face. Catalina coloured eyes narrowed, sympathy and sorrow written upon them should anyone look and notice. They had come back, again. Through their walls, only a slight amount left, and only a couple able to walk their horses properly. People walking up, looking for their loved ones, and waiting. Waiting to see them, hopefully.

All he could do was sit upon the large wall, looking down at the small, ant-like figures. Watch the blood covered cloaks whip in the wind, torn and ripped. The wings on the backs of humans were torn. Shredded beyond belief, and no longer trustworthy as when they had been the first time.

The first time anyone had bothered to leave the walls again.

The people down there... He couldn't understand them. Not the civilians, nor the soldiers. Not the dead, nor the living. There was no distinction between them, anymore. After a while the feeling of trying to notice a friend left. It was no longer, to some, who was alive. Rather, a feeling always thrust upon his chest that he could not understand. Anyone worth mentioning was dead. Dead until seen, alive only if seen.

So much weeping. Even if one did not know a person, the civilians cried. Did he have no tears to shed? No hope for the dead to be useful? Was he just that bad?

He didn't understand. Not a bit. Everyday there was a chance. Not a chance of life, anymore. He no longer held the trust to keep the thought. There was always the chance that someone he knew died. They would never come back, never be a hero, never die with any thought. They would be forgotten, and that was the end of it.

Live with hopes of not dying. Die with hopes you helped. Be forgotten with no such mercy given.

He supposed that he shouldn't complain. But, what better to do than that? He couldn't understand their situations. Never.

Perhaps he was only another civilian afraid of going out. There was no perhaps, the reminder came. He was only afraid. Fear gripped him, holding tightly, cutting off any breath that could have been used to show courage. Courage to help more than this.

Pitiful. He was absolutely pitiful.

Preaching and preaching about how useless they were. Yet he had the guts to stay on a wall, safer than them, while they got themselves killed. What right did he have to do such? None.

Blaming it on not understanding was a move only made to settle the conflict. It would truly bite him in the ass.

A scream from down below. More screaming. The sound of shame was as evident as the third toll of the bell. The crowd angry, and beaten. Not with physical violence, never. They were not there to witness the deaths of their loved ones. They did not fight. They did not help. Yet even so, they had more right than he did to scream. To cry out.

What right did he have? None.