Monday, April 16, 2012

The Story of the Ages: Youth vs. Adults

       On the very bleak and grey morning, the sun seemed to almost shine in the distant. The spring breeze was flowing like usual to the west of the island; blowing green seedlings all over the fields, also carrying fresh drops of river water on the seeds and petals from the trees with overbearing flowers. The sweet scent also brought many youngsters swarming with the fuzzy feelings in their stomachs, tickled out of their toes and got inhaled again through their noses.

       Many older children are standing in a circle in the green fields, holding hands and dancing in the giant circles while the younger ones stood inside it. They all sang simple tunes. Fun ones. Soft ones. The songs to represent spring:

Dainty flowers,
Spring flowers,
Carry my spirit,
 To the love for my people.
Let my spirit dance in harmony,
With the Goddess of Spring.

She will watch over me,
Protect me,
And always hold me,
Till the sunlight breaks.

        The song goes on forever. Never ending as the children start to break apart and dance in the circle they made. They still continue to sing until little by little, the children take their over-used shoes and abused hats and throw them up to air as they chant a bit louder:

Take my soul to my mother's womb,
Where she will bore me again, 
Like our Goddess does to her children.
For we are her children,
The Sprout Saplings.

          Soon, their shirts and rest of their clothing are scattered remains of their past lives as they dance again all close and huddled to one another. The young almost grown girls not afraid to show their beauty and the foolish boys not commenting by their appearances either; like they were all in their own worlds. The youngsters however didn't care. They all danced with each other as they chanted the same melody over and over again. Some laughed til the air was released out of their precious lungs and some even laughed til they cried soft, pure tears of happiness. They hugged each other as each of them cries, later turning into harsh sadness. Some got goosebumps as the sadness shook them to their were freezing cold.

           Suddenly, gun fires were shot in the distance and one of the younger girls squealed but was quickly covered by a older girl that was behind her. They all stared at each other and then ran off, grabbing their remains of their dignity and ran to the bringer of the sweet scent. They all held each other; hand in hand like the Children of the Gardens they are...

           "Crap they got away." A husky, almost chocking voice proclaimed in such annoyance to the fields. The old cracked voice gave out after his old smoking habit as he coughed and snarled saliva from his throat. A older fellow, almost in his thirties, wore a blue cloak and held a hunting gun in his brown ripped gloves. He strolled on his aching but muscular legs that were shown in his brown trunks as other men followed him behind; some riding their horses.

            The men who followed were all much younger then their leader was, but even with his youth of having bolt loads of energy, all of them were exhausted and tried from tracking down the children. Some don't even know why they joined him. By their birth right? Parents? Laws of their town? Others thought it was their rightful duty. However, to the leader, it was almost his religion if he could try. The youngest but the most tired was the rookie of the men, who was all ready weak from carrying his gun and would pass out any moment. He held his head low until he let out a moan of pity, "Should we set up camp General Kipp?" 

            Suddenly, all the men stopped in their tracks as they held their guns tightly. Some even lowered themselves to the ground like a mine was detonated. The young man gulped a vomit he hiccuped from the bellows of his stomach as he realized what he just did. The General then stiffened and then turned around, spying the young man in the eyes like poison darts.

            "You can rest when you're dead," He said in a low voice as he raised it a little, "I'm not letting those youngsters get away from me. They need to remember where they came from and not some mythical fairy story. Now keep moving, or I will do the honors that the King has the privilege to do. It might even be the killing part."

             The men were praying their minds that the new recruit had some brains to keep quiet about the General's retoriqal threats but again the voice was heard, "But General Kipp, we all technically believed in that story once in our-"

           A bullet was suddenly flying out one of the General's three rifles as it went through the young man's hat. The shock made the young lad duck to the floor and hug his head tightly. He searched for loss of life inside his closed eyes lids as he realized the blood from his head went running down his nose and diving off his chin. It barely scraped him scalp, but he can still feel the puncture wound as he held back tears of still being alive.

            "Watch your mouth Squirt, or I will make sure it doesn't miss the initial target. Got it?!" His voice raised with warning signals.

            Silence was answered as two other men brought the young man to his feet. He was now biting his lip which was bursting with blood. 

             "Yes sir." He said through gritted teeth and hollow voice. 

             "Don't call me sir Squirt or do you really want to die on the first day of you being a man?" He asked, now aiming and cocking his gun to full throttle. 

             "Yes General Kippert! He spat blood on the floor that spaced them apart. 

             The gun was then shot into air and he yelled, "Keep moving men! I want them dead as they are in range of my guns!"


  1. Haw dang. This is very historical sounding in a way.

    1. Thank you! I was inspired for some reason to do this out of the blue. Should I do more historical fiction more often?

    2. It is quite hard to do historical fiction. It depends on how historical. It reminds me of the banning of witchcraft back in the day.

    3. Yeah. It depends what I write about based on history. Yeah, but I have realized if my teacher taught me something and she asks me write about it, I go all out on it. I could show you some of the stuff I wrote. This letter I wrote I had a blast on. I can post it if you like :)