Monday, September 2, 2013

Blogfest/ Take Two

Today is the day! Welcome everyone to Red, White, and Blue makes Purple Blogfest!
 This blogfest consists of flash fiction with a military theme, all of which will be featured in an anthology to be released in January. All proceeds to go to Camp Pioneer, an Operation Purple camp. Operation Purple is a great organization, which provides summer camp for the kids of our country's soldiers, free of charge. I will be posting more information concerning the anthology later, but for now, stop by these other blogs and thank these wonderful people for giving back to those who have served us.  

Here is my story:

     “Sir?” I question, watching him.

     He nods slightly, holding out his coat.

     That time I grab it, feeling the weight; royal robes aren’t something I’ve ever felt before, let alone worn. Surprisingly it fits. And mine fits him, too.

     “Where are you going to be?” I ask, but he’s already walking out the door. From behind he looks like me; just a plain shepherd, in plain shepherd’s clothes. And I look like him. I guess that’s the point.

     I leave as well, only when I get outside, I head in the opposite direction.

     The sounds from the front come at me. It’s different, somehow, knowing that all those arrows are now being drawn for me.  That thought is enough to stop my feet.

     I don’t need a reason to do this; I already have hundreds of those. That’s not why I stopped. I need for this, this giving of my life, to be personal.   

     A picture of my brother’s face fills my mind just as my feet shift to turn back to the shelter. He believed in this cause.

     That’s not enough.

     He died for this cause.

     The picture shifts and I wince, expecting him to transform into the mutilated pile of flesh dumped in front of our house last week, but it isn’t. It’s him, only now, he’s happy. He’s hopeful.

     I start walking again. 

     Men shift to the side as I pass. Most of them have that same look on their face.

The men on the wall respond as well. Twisted contortions of rage turn bright as they see the stones embroidered across my chest, as they draw their bows.

      I want to close my eyes, but I can’t. I know this is the last thing on this earth I will see.

     The first hit comes from my left, only it’s thick and dull, not piercing like I expected. It’s followed by another, then another, until I topple to the ground. There are at least five men piled on top of me.

     A final thud comes, only this one is from behind.

     One by one, the men rise and I see in their faces the same reason that was in mine. They believed the lie as much as the men on the wall. They thought I was him. And for him they would give their lives.

     As one man we turn to see the figure lying on the ground behind us, the man whose blood turned crimson the shepherd clothes I’d had on just ten minutes before.