When will all this grass stop bleeding? It seems to
me an endless field that doesn't seem to come to an end. It stretches far
out into the wild capturing the eye of people from every space craft. The
bloody field seen from outside.
I wonder what it appears to be to the people
that have no idea about this up coming war? No doubt it is a pretty colour,
set against a beautiful background for contrast. They have no idea what
the people here go through. They don't imagine the grass to be coloured
by the blood of human lives.
The young pilot let his body rest backwards, relaxing
his position. His hands folded behind his head, he stared out in to the
field. His lavender eyes encompassed the wild field blinking only once
or twice. His long brown hair, neatly made into a braid, hung over his
back. The soft wind moved some stray hair or other that had come loose
from the braid. With the tip of his black boot he ruffled one of the thousands
of grass stalks before him.
Duo Maxwell closed his eyes, lifting his face towards
the sky. The endless sea of stars offers no answer to the queries in his
head. He needs answers, but the only thing that he sees in the sky is the
earth.
Alien. Strange. Distant and cold.
Just a huge mass of gas out there in space. It doesn't
care to help him.
Do the people there ever look into the sky themselves
and wonder about the colonies? He shakes his head. I'm becoming
afraid. That's dangerous.
The young pilot shook his head again. He smiled
at his own depressive ideas. After all the hardships he's been through
to become part of the heroic act he is about to commit, to become afraid
now would be pointless. He opened his eyes, staring at the stars. So beautiful
and each shinning with its own light.
The other colonies might also come up with a
plan, an idea in search of freedom. I wonder if any of them is thinking
of such an act like the one I'll do? He ran his boot over the leg of
his huge machine. He smiled as the stars shone on its shiny black leg.
People are like stars, I guess, each of us shining with our own light.
None of us less beautiful because of who he is. All in all, like stars,
we are all the same.
He smiled. The wind picked up again, messing more
hair tendrils out of his braid. He groaned softly. What I hate of this
wind, man. He pulled his black cap on over his eyes.
I hope I'm not all alone on this... His ears caught
the distant sound of a wild bird between the wild grass. He stopped to
listen to it, curious. The bird seemed happy. Suddenly, his eyes widened.
His mind troubled, his breath caught short, he startled. The bird's cry
turned into a human wail, followed by an other. He snapped up to a standing
position, listening for the source of the sound.
The wailing grew worse, sounds of storms in the hills,
lightning. But there is no storm there. He searches for the clouds, but
his eyes cannot see anything. There are none. He gasps. The sound becomes
twisted. The noise of huge machines roaming the streets, of death and hellish
nightmares. Men yelling, and woman cursing. Babies crying. He gritted his
teeth as the noise grew louder. The fire crackling, fire arms, tanks, Mobile
Suits braking the souls of men, ripping the bones of men, killing. Demembering.
Fear on the streets of his colony, sounds of death... death...
He snarled out loud fighting against his unseen
unreal enemy.
He turned around to look up at his Mobile Suit It
loomed over him silently. Black against the sky. He stared at it his hands
still in his ears.
Am I to become one of them? One of the killers that
walk the streets of my colony murdering all of those who oppose them?
The huge machine didn't answer. In silence, never able to talk back, it
defied the black sky. Duo closed his eyes. The screams slowly drawing away
into the darkness of his mind. He forced his eyes shut to keep out the
view of his Death Machine against the beautiful stars. The wind changed,
blowing the grass another way, in a different direction. The smell of blood
came to his nostrils. Bleeding... grass...
When? When are the people going to have their land
back? Have freedom be truly theirs? When? The screams in his mind banged
at his head. He opened his eyes. He stared at the field his teeth gritted
fiercely like a beast.
When are these fields going to stop bleeding
with innocent blood... and the soil become one's own again..? He stared
at the horizon letting out a sigh. He smiled grimly.
I am to become an angel of death. We, Deathschythe,
you and I are to plunge into the fathomless pit of hell. Murdering in the
name of justice. The fields of earth must also bleed so that ours might
stop. He bared his teeth, his anger making his
eyes glow viciously. He closed his eyes and ran a hand over his hair, his
anger receding.
A soft smile passed his lips. The sun had begun
to rise slowly over the field of grass. It painted the wilderness yellow
with its light. Making the sky red, orange, blue. Giving the grass new
colours. Duo stared as the huge field was covered in the sun's rays. He
smiled wider, looking up at Deathscythe, washed golden in the sun's ray.
New life, new colours, over our bleeding grass.
He lifted his arms to the sky closing his eyes.
The air of morning came to his nostrils, taking the smell of death from
him. The wild birds sleeping between the grass took flight to the sky.
He smiled at them.
I want to take this moment and make it last forever.
I'm not coming back here, not ever, before I finish what I must do. Before
my journey is complete. I must keep this field, this sky, this feeling
inside me forever, save I loose myself in the way. Save war threatens to
make me its slave.
He lay his hand against the cold gundanium of his Mobile
Suit, looking out at the field. He stared at it for a long time in silence,
capturing every detail, every soft leave, every wind howl. The smallest
detail so he'd take it with him to earth. He smiled. The last time he'd
be on his colony, the last time for a long while. He laughed out loud,
smiling as the echoes of his laughter came back from across the field.
My destiny begins here...
(c) December 1996 Team Bonet. Gundam Wing is (c) 1995
Sunrise. Please do not use this story without the author's permission.
Thank you for reading, and have a nice day, mate.
Bleeding Grass
By: Team Bonet