Two boys, almost men, stand at the lake's edge. They don't look at each other, they don't speak. They just stand there, side by side, and somehow everything they need to say is said in that silence.
It's a habit of theirs, a routine. One that neither of them can remember starting, or even why they started, but is too important to give up. The peacefulness of the calm water and the clear sky is not something you come across often in these times. It's something worth cherishing, worth holding on to with both hands and never letting go.
The seasons change and the two men, definitely men now, return to the lake. The war has affected them; it's not hard to tell. They have straight backs, like soldiers, and both look like they haven't slept in a week.
One goes along with their tradition of silence but the other, after a few restless moments, is the one to break it.
"How the fuck can you just stand there, Jamie? How the fuck can you just sit back and watch while all this is happening? Do you even get it? There is a war on, Jamie, a fucking war. A war where people are dying and people are killing. A war where the balance between light and dark is slowly tipping until we're gonna be living in a world that thrives off fear. And here you are just standing here. God damn it, Jamie, you need to say something!"
Yet the other one does not speak. He just looks up at the sky and watches as a single ray of light makes its way through the dark of the night. As the first man paces back and forth across the dew brushed grass, the second remains still as his eyes reflect the blood-red streaks that are strewn across the sky like the strokes from an artist's paintbrush on fresh canvas. Golden light appears on the horizon. The light gradually gets stronger and overcomes the dark until none remains.
The first man stops to stand next to the other one, and together they watch as the red streaks disappear, and the gold fades to blue.
"What was that all about Jamie? What's so great about a sunrise?"
With that question, finally the other one moves. He takes a moment to stretch out, like an old willow tree at winter's end. Running a hand through his messy black hair, he turns to face the other one. The barest hint of a smile graces his lips.
"That, my friend," he says. "Is our battle plan."
So, reviews are most welcome. Tell me if you love it, hate it, don't get it, or whatever.
xoxo