| Title: The Darkness Of Rain
Feedback: Appreciated very much. E-mail Me Archive: Ask first, I'll say yes. Rating: PG for dark moments and angst. Pairing: Original. Summary: A soldier's thoughts during a war. Notes: I originally wrote this for an English assignment, but wrote Miracles instead after I thought my teacher would send me to counseling. Disclaimer: I own everything original in this story. |
The Darkness Of Rain By Alison D/C: I own everything. Don't steal. Thanks! ~*~*~ The rain had drenched him thoroughly long ago, but he still didn't feel cold. Even if he had, he wouldn't complain; war heroes didn't complain, there was some kind of unwritten rule about it that none of them dared to break, for fear of going home ashamed in the military's eyes. The gray uniforms melded into a huge blur as the time went on. The time went on, and no one complained. And yet, he loved the rain. War was another story. It seemed so pointless now, hiking over who knew how many miles just to go and kill the "enemy" for some worthless cause. He hated it, and there was nothing he would do to carry out on that hate. Better to fight in war than be dead was his motto. He had to repeat it to himself during weeks of intensive training, or when his worn leather shoes squelching against the mud, as they were now. Better to fight in war than be dead. When he was a child, he had been fascinated with war and the prospect of him possibly becoming one of those heroes he had always heard about on the radio. How wrong I was, he thought now, years too late. How happy and joyous everyone was, thinking war was some kind of glamorous thing. How wrong they all were. He hadn't been in the war long, although he had lost track of the days, and he had already seen death. She wasn't a soldier, probably wouldn't even fire a gun if that opportunity came up, her heart was that kind. No, she was a nurse, trying to help with the war effort but not wanting to kill. He had loved her; he knew that for sure, one of the few certainties in his war-ridden life. He had loved her, and now she was dead. Dead and never coming back. She never knew it, of course. His shyness had long overtaken any words that he might have wanted to say to her. So he watched her from a distance. It really wasn't that bad, looking back on it. He was perfectly content with letting her believe that he was just another soldier, fighting the good fight. And now she was dead. Dead, dead, dead. He suddenly became aware that his uniform was drenched, both with rain and with blood of a freshly shot bullet, and he finally was cold. FIN |