Crimson at a Distance

Crimson at a Distance
(revision 2; 9/15/06)

The front has been held, but only by the blood of those most precious. Tired soldiers gaze the gaze of indifference as the ground again rumbles with the enemies renewed offensive. One soldier; battered, bloodied, broken...kneels beside his gently rested rifle and bades his eyes to once again shield him from vistas of death. Marrow laden blood seeps from wounds that won't seem to heal. Air laden with the smell of sweat and fear pass resolutely through his lungs. Spirit torn, heart held together by precious tendrils of love given freely together shiver quietly in the wake of pounding fire. Bullets scream around him, but they find no refuge from their ballistic torment here in this ragged life. Even bullets respect sacrifice.

Few men have seen the true horrors this soldier's eyes have partaken. Few felt the rip of pure agony when brother after brother fell beside him, for him. Many more would feel the shocking pain of betrayal before the whims of wise men were satisfied. Dawn caressed open weary tear laden eyes. Only the reassuring hand of a rallying co patriot returned life to the young soldier's limbs. Perhaps this day he would yield. Perhaps this day he would find peace along with his squandered kin. For now, bitter hate and helpless confusion are safely set aside for cold efficient execution.

One round for one life. No longer do his eyes shutter as the concussion roles from the barrel. Unwavering, he chooses each target with his blazing reticule. With little effort he aims for his kill zone and puts to rest another tortured soul. Steaming shells bear his malice. As foe after foe meet the plane of his rifle only one hope remains: that his life be enough to buy those who gave, another chance at freedom.

-Ty