Companions

There’s something to be said about dodging enemy fire bringing friends together. Before this war the only people I really cared for was my family. My friends and I used to go out together at home. We would drink and play and act like fools. What kind of games would we play? I don’t think it really matters. We were young and we were fools.

We would play at war. “Look at me!” We would call out and beat our chests and tell anyone who came in range of our imaginary weapons to beware or we would kill them. We would play dead on the fields of battle. Our pristine, pale skin absorbing the sunlight as our bodies quivered with suppressed mirth at our attempts to create the most grotesque positions we could imagine. I’ve seen the contortions of death first hand now and know our attempts at horror paled in comparison.

The companions of my youth have melted away and now I am left with the survivors of the battles as my friends and companions. Each of us bear the scars of pain and death. Some of which can also be seen upon the surface of our skin, others can only be found deep within our minds and souls.

I had many friends when I first began this adventure, but the war has taken most of them from me. They have either faded away because of the horrors of this war or have been taken from us on the field of battle. Now, there are only the four of us standing. We are what remains.

When we started this we were promised honor and glory, but there is nothing honorable in the death I have seen and the heavens have not showered glories upon my head. I scramble in the dirt to find cover. I sometimes shoot first, before I have even taken aim at the enemy and sometimes wonder if it was my weapon that pierced the skin of my companions. Death will come to us all in the end. I do not fear death; He has become as much of a companion to me as the friends who stand shoulder-to-shoulder with me upon the field of battle. When He comes I will greet Him with a smile, wrap my arms around Him and give Him a welcome kiss.