Smoker's Moon (standard:Psychological fiction, 1159 words)
Author: Leif Tanner	Added: Mar 20 2009	Views/Reads: 3772/2230	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
A view of the battlefield in the mind of a soldier

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story

greedful hunger satiates the burning desire for dominance and obedience 
from his enemy. 

This senseless want for war and destruction, where the victor inevitably
runs astray to be entombed in personal crypts for quests for 
deliverance that never come is lost to the General who knows only of 
personal gain... 

Fading from time as easily as an old memory that is forgotten through
the chaos and confusion of a battered mind reeling from abusive alcohol 
and starving personalites, the past and present collide in an explosion 
of happiness and horror, when the physical battle ends long before the 
mental anguish of crying voices that live on through the day and 
chatter constantly through the night long. A victory brought by 
servants; lieutenants and sergeants nursing abrasions and throats 
swollen and hoarse from continuous shouting of orders to the troops... 
but the words that are heard speak not of revelance, nor rationality, 
but the growing concern to be heard and action of post-war ettiquette 
upon an enemy which bases itself on the social equivalency of a rabbit 
in hunting season. 

Walking from the tent, A flash of light lit up the land as campfires
began to blaze, keeping the huddled masses of the survivors – injured, 
all of them by physical or mental pain – warm. The scene was far 
different from the reality that encompasses the peace and happiness 
which the General lived, as now but decomposing relics of forgotten 
souls littered the battle ground, bringing the grim reality of war to 
the General's eyes. 

Yet, beyond the grounds of death, in the canyon, where once the silent
soldier wore a proud young face and where glory was hoisted on his 
shoulders for the generations of the future, a childish innocence 
accompanied the pride through the trek of life which disregarded the 
dangers of youth for immortality of a soul without heart; empty eyes 
continued to stare above the rocky craters at the Moon. 

In the blood of a nation that would be spilled coldly and mercilessly
for generations, only to be brought back to the reality of life in a 
new generation,  the shock that witnessed the Smoker's prophetic Moon 
with a tale so drenched of blood, the fallen musket rifle returns to 
life. One bullet, no prayers, and where the lifeless returns to the 
deep slumber from whence it was born. 

© Leif Tanner


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