Sixteen Years a Traveler (mild cussing)

Discussion in 'Writers' Corner' started by skyrimed, Feb 27, 2016.

  1. To most ten-year-old children, the backyard is their world. Their imaginations let them dominate the boulder next to the great oak tree; they can hold secret government meetings in the shed and make poisons consisting of mud and dandelions. Those kids never have to worry about a damn thing.
    But they don't yet know how to face the barrel of a gun, or strip their emotions down to the bone so nothing can stop them. Wooden swords aren't going to slay demons.
    There are children out there who can wield rusty blades, who can hunt, who can fend for themselves, who can steal and lie their way into the right of life. One day their parents had told them to run, and they never looked back.
    These are children of war and famine.
    A little girl who isn't sure exactly where she came from. One could look at her and spot only the deviousness reflecting in her eyes, but could never quite catch her in the act.
    A little boy with too much energy and none used to cry over his missing parents. One could see him marching down the road with his head held high and a trail of regret falling behind.
    The boy was clingy and the girl was distant. They were best friends, they watched out for each other, until somehow they departed. The boy started to lose his trust and tolerance for sleep. He could only think about what it was that made her leave. It was a burning question in the back of his mind, never to be answered.
    And then, one day, their paths crossed again.
    While the boy insisted he knew her, she dispassionately objected, then proceeded to ignore him. He acknowledged the cold gesture and noted how little they've changed from the years apart. She was still a little crazy, and he was still a little restless.
    They worked as mercenaries. The girl stayed in the city with her charming ex-fed husband, while the boy stood at the side of an irritated prophet. They were protecting the same kind of people, but soldiers have to be dispersed.
    There hardly was another chance to speak to the girl. She was killed alongside her husband in an attempt to protect her children. She told them to run, so they did, and they never looked back.
    He watched the girl's son raise his little sister. She grew into a woman who reflected the same obsessive behavior as her mother.
    These were children of war and famine. They survived, and they're safe. They'll never have to face the barrel of a gun or hold back their emotions. Yet they'll never really know the image their mother left on the back of the boy's eyelids. Looking upon their silhouettes, he'll always be reminded of how much he appreciated his first best friend.
  2. that was pretty deep man.

    I get a Bosnian war vibe off this. I don't know why. Could just be my playing too much of This War of Mine.
    skyrimed likes this.
  3. That's an interesting take. Really it's just a small idea from a story I've been developing since I was like 10 (and it's still a work in progress !)