11-11-2009, 07:05 AM
...surrounded by a grassy meadow, the granite monument stands out from the sea of small white wooden crosses, intermixed with patches of red flowers. As the figure lays down a wreath at the base of the monument, he notices the words, chipped into the stone surface, for all to see: "Here lies the body of an unknown soldier, his identity known only to God". Below the words, a small flame burns, whipping around slightly in the light breeze.
The figure stands back from the monument a few paces and looks around. It's a quiet spot, peaceful. He can almost see the ghostly forms of the soldiers in uniform buried here. The uniforms themselves vary, some, the newer ones, are mostly patterned in a cameflage of brown, as if the soldiers had been in a desert, while others are obviously older, their single colors solid, with no patterns at all. Regardless what the uniforms look like, the faces are much the same. Though difficult to make out, they look like they might be fathers or brothers, uncles or cousins, even to a lesser extent, mothers or daughters. All sharing the same sacrifice of having laid down their lives for the greater good.
From under his coat, the figure takes out a bugle, puts it to his lips and begins to play. As the mournful notes of the Last Post are played, he remembers back on the sacrifices these soldiers have made. We thank you all for what you've done. We will NOT forget.
*S*
The figure stands back from the monument a few paces and looks around. It's a quiet spot, peaceful. He can almost see the ghostly forms of the soldiers in uniform buried here. The uniforms themselves vary, some, the newer ones, are mostly patterned in a cameflage of brown, as if the soldiers had been in a desert, while others are obviously older, their single colors solid, with no patterns at all. Regardless what the uniforms look like, the faces are much the same. Though difficult to make out, they look like they might be fathers or brothers, uncles or cousins, even to a lesser extent, mothers or daughters. All sharing the same sacrifice of having laid down their lives for the greater good.
From under his coat, the figure takes out a bugle, puts it to his lips and begins to play. As the mournful notes of the Last Post are played, he remembers back on the sacrifices these soldiers have made. We thank you all for what you've done. We will NOT forget.
*S*
Beware my dark side......oh! Hi Dark.
