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31_days2008-07-06 07:08 pm
sakurapetals518.livejournal.com) wrote in 31_days2008-07-06 07:08 pm
[Original] [July 6] Heroism
Title: Heroism
Day/Theme: July 6/ Will you ever know?
Series: Original
Character/Pairing: He (the character doesn't have a specific name)
Rating: PG-13 (just for blood)
Note: One of my darker pieces. It talks about war and there is a bit of disturbing imagery. You have been warned!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
He knows saving lives and protecting people and changing the world but he does not know Hero or Heroism and he wants to know what defines a hero (because he could not save nearly enough people in his lifetime). He knows that heroes are supposed to take care of people close to them, so he tucks his sister into bed and reads her a story while his parents argue with each other because she's not normal (later, they all watch in horrorfearanger as she slips deeper into her fantasy world and he couldn't save her either). He doesn't want to stay there any longer as the echoes of echoes of shrieks rebound around the house like a mournful ghost, doesn't want to flip through dusty comic books and pretend that everything is fine when there's something terribly wrong, isn't there (and he knows he can't ignore it anymore, shouldn't ignore it anymore, but does because he's not Hero) He wants to help people, he argues (and it’s ironic because he’s leaving behind the people he should be trying to help) and wins and sheds hid memories of failed promises and joins the army.
It’s not like home (and he reflects that it was stupid of him to think it would be because home was safe and predictable and home) and he’s disoriented at first because this place is its own universe with its own rules. And eh makes interesting friends who either run on sugar or smoke… something and he’s putting his bet on the latter because nobody can be that crazy (but they are and they don’t smoke anything and he’s sure he’s discovered a new species of sorts). And they were there when he tried to freshen up the sergeant a little bit (it involved toothpaste, a soap dispenser minus the soap, and laundry detergent in place of a nice bubble bath) in hopes that he would get a girlfriend and have someone else to occupy his time (and for reasons he couldn’t even fathom, it didn’t work, but the sergeant did start brushing his teeth). They were there when he had his first mud fight (that’s how they settled fights and the last one left screaming and standing in the slick mud was the winner, regardless of the argument). And they are friends, comrades, brothers (and he doesn’t quite remember heroism, doesn’t quite forget it either but he’s Human and Hero has faded not entirely enough but enough so he conveniently doesn’t have enough time for detailed letters anymore).
Some days, he doesn’t laugh at all (and he’s learned to laugh when he can and take what he can get because that’s all he can get), like the day he found out he is going to the Middle East and he wants to cry because he’s seen some of the soldiers who come back from there and all he has is the forever ago idea of Hero and partially formed dreams that tickle his mind. But the rest of his friends are going too (and no matter how depressing the news, he can’t help but smile a bit because they are friends. So he closes his eyes and immerses himself in hopes and half forgotten memories and childhood summers. The next time he opens them, he’s at war.
Distantly, between the chatter of weapons and shadowy nightmares, he remembers he joined the army to be Hero (and he remembers, in that far ago time, when heroism seemed possible and) – and the gunfire starts up again and he slowly loses himself because he finds out that he can’t closes his eyes and he easily once-upon-a-time could and he’s not sure if Hero exists or if that was a part of childhood, too. It shouldn’t (does) still matter; he straightens his back, raises world-weary eyes and marches on (because there’s nothing else left) and each day, he forgets a little more, that he existed outside of this.
Screams and blood that isn’t his on his hands and he’s so confused. The dead bodies are staring at him and the metal of the gun bits into his palms and –ohmygod, he realizes, I did this. And he was supposed to save lives, not destroy everything but they’re all shouting at him to keep going and that blood. Crimson streaks and he knows that this image will be imprinted on his eyes forever and he wants to scream at them all because they aren’t reacting. They were here to save people (and he knows it’s foolish because it’s the army and soldiers fight and fighting means death and he’s stuck here now). Broken but not bleeding because he can’t, not anymore and he stares up at the azure sky because the sun still shines here no matter what.
So he makes his choice to be Hero because he’s still here and because he still can but mostly because he can still try to be Hero or go insane. For the first time in months, his eyes are a clear blue (and they are an amazing colour, kind of like the label on an Aquafina bottle) because – because he has made the choice to be something instead of losing himself and he can’t regret it.
He’s not sure how to be Hero because Hero is different, but he smiles a bit more to the children on the streets and tells jokes to his friends to cheer them up and listens to them as they recreate their nightmares because they are all that’s left in this damned universe. He submerges himself in dangerous missions and self-sacrifice (and he’s not sure if that’s enough because Hero doesn’t destroy but he’s trying so hard and that must count for something and he clings to that believe because he takes what he can get).
They tell him that he has to invade a rebel camp, and it’s a small and concentrated amount of soldiers because this is all they can spare. The movements become robotic, like clockwork, and he shoots them down one after the other (because he’s also Human and he wants to live and who could begrudge him life?) But, no, that’s not exactly it because it is also erratic and he wants to throw up because he is here, amidst the gunfire and the curses and there are so many bodies lying on the ground. Someone shouts at him to get down but he doesn’t react fast enough, can’t. There’s a slimy, slick something passing over his uniform and his hands come away red and he falls.
The noises still continue but faded somehow, like his underwater and everything takes on an unrealistic sheen. There’s nothing to do so he closes his eyes and wonders if he’s going to live or if he’s, at least, been a hero to anyone (because, maybe what Hero is is incandescent hope and not so far off dream, and a kind of comfort and – and Human, too, because he cares enough to try to be Hero. Maybe it is and maybe it isn’t and he doesn’t think he’ll ever know but he does know that heroes exist and he’s content with that).
Day/Theme: July 6/ Will you ever know?
Series: Original
Character/Pairing: He (the character doesn't have a specific name)
Rating: PG-13 (just for blood)
Note: One of my darker pieces. It talks about war and there is a bit of disturbing imagery. You have been warned!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
He knows saving lives and protecting people and changing the world but he does not know Hero or Heroism and he wants to know what defines a hero (because he could not save nearly enough people in his lifetime). He knows that heroes are supposed to take care of people close to them, so he tucks his sister into bed and reads her a story while his parents argue with each other because she's not normal (later, they all watch in horrorfearanger as she slips deeper into her fantasy world and he couldn't save her either). He doesn't want to stay there any longer as the echoes of echoes of shrieks rebound around the house like a mournful ghost, doesn't want to flip through dusty comic books and pretend that everything is fine when there's something terribly wrong, isn't there (and he knows he can't ignore it anymore, shouldn't ignore it anymore, but does because he's not Hero) He wants to help people, he argues (and it’s ironic because he’s leaving behind the people he should be trying to help) and wins and sheds hid memories of failed promises and joins the army.
It’s not like home (and he reflects that it was stupid of him to think it would be because home was safe and predictable and home) and he’s disoriented at first because this place is its own universe with its own rules. And eh makes interesting friends who either run on sugar or smoke… something and he’s putting his bet on the latter because nobody can be that crazy (but they are and they don’t smoke anything and he’s sure he’s discovered a new species of sorts). And they were there when he tried to freshen up the sergeant a little bit (it involved toothpaste, a soap dispenser minus the soap, and laundry detergent in place of a nice bubble bath) in hopes that he would get a girlfriend and have someone else to occupy his time (and for reasons he couldn’t even fathom, it didn’t work, but the sergeant did start brushing his teeth). They were there when he had his first mud fight (that’s how they settled fights and the last one left screaming and standing in the slick mud was the winner, regardless of the argument). And they are friends, comrades, brothers (and he doesn’t quite remember heroism, doesn’t quite forget it either but he’s Human and Hero has faded not entirely enough but enough so he conveniently doesn’t have enough time for detailed letters anymore).
Some days, he doesn’t laugh at all (and he’s learned to laugh when he can and take what he can get because that’s all he can get), like the day he found out he is going to the Middle East and he wants to cry because he’s seen some of the soldiers who come back from there and all he has is the forever ago idea of Hero and partially formed dreams that tickle his mind. But the rest of his friends are going too (and no matter how depressing the news, he can’t help but smile a bit because they are friends. So he closes his eyes and immerses himself in hopes and half forgotten memories and childhood summers. The next time he opens them, he’s at war.
Distantly, between the chatter of weapons and shadowy nightmares, he remembers he joined the army to be Hero (and he remembers, in that far ago time, when heroism seemed possible and) – and the gunfire starts up again and he slowly loses himself because he finds out that he can’t closes his eyes and he easily once-upon-a-time could and he’s not sure if Hero exists or if that was a part of childhood, too. It shouldn’t (does) still matter; he straightens his back, raises world-weary eyes and marches on (because there’s nothing else left) and each day, he forgets a little more, that he existed outside of this.
Screams and blood that isn’t his on his hands and he’s so confused. The dead bodies are staring at him and the metal of the gun bits into his palms and –ohmygod, he realizes, I did this. And he was supposed to save lives, not destroy everything but they’re all shouting at him to keep going and that blood. Crimson streaks and he knows that this image will be imprinted on his eyes forever and he wants to scream at them all because they aren’t reacting. They were here to save people (and he knows it’s foolish because it’s the army and soldiers fight and fighting means death and he’s stuck here now). Broken but not bleeding because he can’t, not anymore and he stares up at the azure sky because the sun still shines here no matter what.
So he makes his choice to be Hero because he’s still here and because he still can but mostly because he can still try to be Hero or go insane. For the first time in months, his eyes are a clear blue (and they are an amazing colour, kind of like the label on an Aquafina bottle) because – because he has made the choice to be something instead of losing himself and he can’t regret it.
He’s not sure how to be Hero because Hero is different, but he smiles a bit more to the children on the streets and tells jokes to his friends to cheer them up and listens to them as they recreate their nightmares because they are all that’s left in this damned universe. He submerges himself in dangerous missions and self-sacrifice (and he’s not sure if that’s enough because Hero doesn’t destroy but he’s trying so hard and that must count for something and he clings to that believe because he takes what he can get).
They tell him that he has to invade a rebel camp, and it’s a small and concentrated amount of soldiers because this is all they can spare. The movements become robotic, like clockwork, and he shoots them down one after the other (because he’s also Human and he wants to live and who could begrudge him life?) But, no, that’s not exactly it because it is also erratic and he wants to throw up because he is here, amidst the gunfire and the curses and there are so many bodies lying on the ground. Someone shouts at him to get down but he doesn’t react fast enough, can’t. There’s a slimy, slick something passing over his uniform and his hands come away red and he falls.
The noises still continue but faded somehow, like his underwater and everything takes on an unrealistic sheen. There’s nothing to do so he closes his eyes and wonders if he’s going to live or if he’s, at least, been a hero to anyone (because, maybe what Hero is is incandescent hope and not so far off dream, and a kind of comfort and – and Human, too, because he cares enough to try to be Hero. Maybe it is and maybe it isn’t and he doesn’t think he’ll ever know but he does know that heroes exist and he’s content with that).