Those few pages...

He was afraid.
Crouched in the trench, he was afraid.
Around him there were those who prayed, those who smoked, those who were apathetic and who was crying softly, as if they ashamed to live.
And there was him, who had many fear.
He, that was one among many.
Especially if they were in the mud.
Affected by an incessant rain of bullets.
The bodies hanging from the barbed wire.
And behind some stretchers stacked, there was Latvia.
Between his hands, some crumpled pages of an unknown writer for those who were not Latvian, but for him, they were worth more than any bottle of Vodka.
Narrow spasmodically to him, shivering in the cold, shivering from fear.
He hoped that the words of Andrejs, they would have given a sort of comfort.
Because in wars something happen, nations become more similar to humans.
Fall like autumn leaves.
Metaphor so often repeated, that to Raivis sickened him.
That's why he didn't have a Bible with him, why didn't utter prayers.
Latvia would hope, Raivis wanted to believe.
He didn't know who or what, but he wished with all his heart.
Here readers, this was the destiny of Andrejs Pumpurs and Lāčplēsis *.
Pages to be worn, soiled with tears, rain and blood, thrown in the backpack of a man like him, a soldier any.
Even while charging, maintained their duty.
Even when a bullet pierced Raivis's shoulder.

Those few pages were his greatest treasure.
His hope.


* Epic Latvian national poem.

Hello everyone,

The character is Andrejs Pumpurs , was a soldier, but also a poet, the writer of the national epic poem Lāčplēsis .
So I thought that the best way this two elements are in a battle, I have imagined the story during the World War I, even though I have not specified a chronological point of view.
A warm greeting and see you soon,
Sachi93.