Dusty Letter

The dust settled as the sky frowned its mighty grey clouds upon the battlefield, yet no drop of rain ever fell. Somehow, though, for my soul it felt like raining—as tears fell from my eyes, watching my comrades fall one after the other. Even when the cruelty of this world was at its peak, the sky did not weep, so I had to.$B$BWe were young boys, young boys coming to defend our land and people in a war not waged by us, a fire we did not start. Yet those who guided us to this forsaken land kept it ablaze, and it was the corpses of my brothers-in-arms that fed its flames.

I am at a crossroads. We are so few left, and though the enemy themselves have lost many, they are still far more vicious and bloodthirsty than we are. So what hope is there, where hundreds have fallen for mere dozens to succeed? I fear this letter will never reach you, Mother and Father; it will never feel the warm morning breeze sweeping over the pond next to our home. The fool I was, the fool I still am, for dreaming of tasting food from your hands again, Mother, or enjoying a pint of Amberale after a hard day's labor, Father.

I lie now in this ragged tent, surrounded by wounded men who are already dead—yet still they walk, still they fight, still they hope for tomorrow to come. We are outnumbered and outmatched. Hope is a foolish ambition for those sent to fight a losing battle. I doubt we will succeed.

Yet, somehow, by some means, just as the flames of war still burn, so does my fighting spirit. I do not wish to cower before death; I do not wish to meet my end with fear. It all ends with this next attack. I truly hope the skies will weep for us in the end. And as I lie among the corpses of my brethren, in the mud and muck, I want to feel the eternal sunlight one last time—to brush my face with its kind touch, just as you used to.

Should this letter ever reach your hands, dear Mother and Father, I hope some comfort reaches you as well. The comfort that, though I lost my life carrying the banner of my land and the wills of my people, I did not fear death. I accepted it. May we once again meet in the lands beyond, blinded by the Light, hand in hand, as we once greeted the sunrise together before a day of labor.$B$BWith eternal love, your son.