|The Silver Book
Author: TheFloridaKeyz PM
A kingdom is enveloped in living darkness where a wicked king births and creates synthetic life within contorted monsters of shadow— a rebellion rises through the sectors and their promise is to clear away the darkness and guide the emaciated kingdom back to its formal glory. This story follows a young girl, and not how she changed the rebellion, but how the rebellion changed her.Rated: Fiction T - English - Fantasy/Family - Chapters: 2 - Words: 4,229 - Reviews: 5 - Favs: 2 - Follows: 3 - Updated: 07-09-12 - Published: 07-04-12 - id: 3038922
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The Silver Book
Book 39 • Entry 65
War. A miniscule word that's always been an abstract in my mind; only made up of three letters, just like cat or red or mom, but behind those three letters lies a meaning that is devastating to even the things it doesn't directly touch. Cat means feline, sly and sneaky, and is devastating when it feels threatened and lunges, gouging your eyes out. Red is the color of blood flowing through brazen hearts, and is devastating when we see the glowing embers in the pit of our soul reach up to the back of our eyes when we are enraged. Mom is the love and affection that every man is given unconditionally. I never had a mom, but I've been told that's what it's like, and it's devastating when she doesn't give that love and affection at all.
And what does war mean? Hurt, without comfort. Loss, without warning. Carnage, without reason. War is an abyss of spiraling darkness that will either swallow you into a fractured state of mind or drag you into the great fat pit of death. I've never been on the field of war myself; slinging out bowls of slop to these grunts does that to a man, but I've seen enough bodies coming in and I've heard enough in the mess hall to imagine the sound of blood-curdling screams as a man is torn apart, the wailing screech of his sorrowful wife and children as no whole corpse is returned to them and the cry of victory from those Dwellers when another grunt falls to his knees. I can imagine the sounds, but I can't imagine the eternal damage it produces, and I can't imagine the flint of emotion it would cause in a man to have his existence hated for no other reason but because it can be.
I always asked my pappy; if it's so easy to kill another man, why do soldiers need to go through training?
He always answered me, in a voice that reminds me now of the rich tobacco he would light in his cracked pipe; "Because, son— it's to validate the killing of another man all because of simple disagreement."
War. A miniscule word that has always been an abstract in my mind; only made up of three letters, just like cat or red or mom, but behind those three letters lies a meaning that is devastating to even the things it doesn't directly touch.
Why does war have to exist?
Equinox • 4th Day • Era 187
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