You were all so young.
You all had such bright futures.
Why throw it away?
There are so many other things you could have done.
Baker, doctor, farmer- heck, even a freaking street-sweeper would have been better.
Why join this trash-pile military?
You shouldn't have felt badly for us.
You shouldn't have shouldered all this weight.
We decided- I decided- To accept this.
Maybe my reasons are entirely selfish.
But at least others can be protected.
I don't understand.
Were you born with wings?
Did they ache to be unfurled and itch to feel the wind rushing beneath them?
Did your bright eyes eagerly search the sky each night?
Did you even wonder if the stars were brighter out there?
Did you ever wonder why?
Were your hearts ever bridled by your past or short-comings? By what others said?
Did they beat faster against your ribs with but the mention of the outside world?
Did you envy the birds?
Did you long for freedom?
Did you?
I felt the same way, once.
I longed to the see the vibrant blue sky in all its majesty, just one more time.
I wanted them to see it too.
But they died under murky gray storm clouds.
What was left to lose except my wings, my life?
Nothing.
Was I a good Captain?
Did I treat you all well?
Was I too stern? Too obsessive over cleanliness?
Did you ever get irritated with me?
Did we ever laugh, all of us together?
I don't know.
That's why I'm asking you, idiots.
I don't remember.
It's all blurred and stained red like your cloaks.
Every time I reach out to grab it.
And every time it slips out of my grasp.
Could I have done something different?
Could I have trained you better?
Could I have saved you?
Would you want me to?
...Oy, what's your father rambling about?
That poor man.
Nobody was waiting for them.
Nobody was praying they'd return safe and sound.
There was nobody to give their bloodstained capes to.
Nobody to be offered a hollow apology.
Petra, will he be alright?
Auruo, wasn't your mother ill?
Gunter, don't you have two younger sisters?
Erd, isn't your brother getting married soon?
How many times will I see tear-stained faces this week?
How many agonized sobs will I hear?
How many hate-filled screams will be hurled at me?
You guys are freaking jerks, you now that?
Beautiful, amazing, wonderful jerks.
I probably won't sleep tonight.
Lest bloodied bodies and crushed corpses haunt my dreams.
But come sunrise, I'll face the day anew.
I'll spread out these old, war-torn wings.
And I'll fly again.
Writing when you're stressed is actually quite therapeutic. This was something from, like, a month or two ago; I can't even remember what it was that was stressing me, heh. So yeah, perhaps a smidgen OOC, but all in all I'm happy with this.
Thanks for reading!
~Absent S.
