Authors Note: This is not meant for slash; please don't take it that way.
If you do, then I am not responsible for the consequences. Namely Enjolras
coming after you with a carbine, knife, etc.
August 25, 2003
When I was younger I used to play a game with my friends, oh yes, it was silly enough. I would run to a slender tree, shaking the unsturdy stalk, everyone would then attempt to avoid the leaves. We called them "bullets".
I was not hit until one day when a new boy came and joined in our game. The tree had grown stronger and I needed help in shaking the leaves down, he helped me. We stood there laughing, not even bothering to dodge as our playmates scampered madly to escape the hail we had invoked. We were hit of course, he warned me of it, "You had best move now fair haired boy. We will both be hit in a moment" I asked him why he did not move and his response was strange, "I was waiting for Apollo to lead the way. Or will you not deign to protect me as well as yourself my godlet?" I remained standing to see what he would do; a moment later we were hit of course. We "died" I leaning against the tree laughing in the bright sunshine, he fallen in an attitude of mock despair in the shadows at my feet. The boys name was Grantair. We were friends but though younger, (I was eleven to his fifteen) I was always the leader; he always lacked the power to make his own decisions. We remained friends however, and I did not begin to despise him until we met in Paris as students, many years later, and I discovered he had taken to drunkenness and vice. I was angry with him, but angrier with myself, he was so weak, it was my fault for not being there to watch over him.
Now while on the barricade it seems to me that I am playing this game again, only this time the bullets are real. I have seen all my dearest friends fall before me, wise Combeferre, gentle Prouvaire, laughing Courfeyrac, daredevil Bahorel and wise, hardworking Feuilly. As I watched them die of the bullets it seemed to me that this was only a dream, that presently I would wake up and go out to play my game again. But this is real, they will never get up, everyone is dead.... except Grantair, I went to him and tried to make him leave, protect him from the impact of my decision. He wouldn't leave, it was hopeless, and I knew it even before I tried to persuade him. I hope he will not wake up and be shot, he should not die for a cause he does not believe in.
I am cornered at last, and as they prepare to shoot me I hear a voice, "Vive le Republique, I'm one of them!" Don't you see you fool; they'll shoot me anyways. You can't do anything, leave, and spare yourself. Then he continues, "Might as well kill two birds with one stone, if you don't mind that is." Yes, yes my friend, come with me into the light I can now see. I grasp his hand suddenly afraid, then just as I hear the shot ring out and feel the bullets hit me, some leaves falling...falling on my face, my hair, the sun filling the world with glory and warmth.... it is a game. A game with life, because of us the future will be free...Patria will be safe.
Finis.
That was some awful writing, but the imagery captivated my imagination, as did the idea of Enjolras and Grantair being friends. Criticism is welcomed. Please Review or e-mail.
August 25, 2003
When I was younger I used to play a game with my friends, oh yes, it was silly enough. I would run to a slender tree, shaking the unsturdy stalk, everyone would then attempt to avoid the leaves. We called them "bullets".
I was not hit until one day when a new boy came and joined in our game. The tree had grown stronger and I needed help in shaking the leaves down, he helped me. We stood there laughing, not even bothering to dodge as our playmates scampered madly to escape the hail we had invoked. We were hit of course, he warned me of it, "You had best move now fair haired boy. We will both be hit in a moment" I asked him why he did not move and his response was strange, "I was waiting for Apollo to lead the way. Or will you not deign to protect me as well as yourself my godlet?" I remained standing to see what he would do; a moment later we were hit of course. We "died" I leaning against the tree laughing in the bright sunshine, he fallen in an attitude of mock despair in the shadows at my feet. The boys name was Grantair. We were friends but though younger, (I was eleven to his fifteen) I was always the leader; he always lacked the power to make his own decisions. We remained friends however, and I did not begin to despise him until we met in Paris as students, many years later, and I discovered he had taken to drunkenness and vice. I was angry with him, but angrier with myself, he was so weak, it was my fault for not being there to watch over him.
Now while on the barricade it seems to me that I am playing this game again, only this time the bullets are real. I have seen all my dearest friends fall before me, wise Combeferre, gentle Prouvaire, laughing Courfeyrac, daredevil Bahorel and wise, hardworking Feuilly. As I watched them die of the bullets it seemed to me that this was only a dream, that presently I would wake up and go out to play my game again. But this is real, they will never get up, everyone is dead.... except Grantair, I went to him and tried to make him leave, protect him from the impact of my decision. He wouldn't leave, it was hopeless, and I knew it even before I tried to persuade him. I hope he will not wake up and be shot, he should not die for a cause he does not believe in.
I am cornered at last, and as they prepare to shoot me I hear a voice, "Vive le Republique, I'm one of them!" Don't you see you fool; they'll shoot me anyways. You can't do anything, leave, and spare yourself. Then he continues, "Might as well kill two birds with one stone, if you don't mind that is." Yes, yes my friend, come with me into the light I can now see. I grasp his hand suddenly afraid, then just as I hear the shot ring out and feel the bullets hit me, some leaves falling...falling on my face, my hair, the sun filling the world with glory and warmth.... it is a game. A game with life, because of us the future will be free...Patria will be safe.
Finis.
That was some awful writing, but the imagery captivated my imagination, as did the idea of Enjolras and Grantair being friends. Criticism is welcomed. Please Review or e-mail.
