Apparently I did not look at a calendar for pretty much the first week of February. I was absolutely shocked when I realized I was already past a week into the 2nd month of 2016! What?! I'm a little bit nervous sharing the story with y'all today--I always get kind of panicky before I let people read my things. You never know what could happen! lol. But honestly, I was having a really hard time putting my thoughts and things for this challenge down into a story format. It happens to everyone, you know? Well, I finally just sat down and just wrote down what I was feeling, and so obviously, it's not going to be very good or maybe even coherent. haha! It's also not in a style I normally write stories in, but it's just the way this one turned out. I'm always open to practice, and the challenge was a really good way for me to do that this past month. I hope you all found it beneficial and fun as well! :) So without further ado...here it is.
I used Dvorak's Symphony No. 9 in E minor, op 95, B. 178, "From the New World" IV. Allegro con fuoco. (link to a Youtube video). Quite a handle, am I right! :D
Different kinds of Courage:
It’s dark here. But I tell myself I am used to darkness--I’ve been to the deepest parts of Moss Cave back home. It was darker there than here. In Moss Cave, you could feel the blackness swamping straight into your innards. It's different out here. You can sense the openness. Once in a while, distant bursts of flame fly up against the sky, making puffs of smoke glow with an odd gold lining.
It's worse out here. I used to think that the utter stillness of Moss Cave was awful. But that was before I was drafted. Before I heard the constant bombardment of explosions or the shouting of men.
I am afraid. We all are. We joke and laugh in the daytime, trying to keep courage. But at night, we feel our insignificance, in the scope of things. We're just one little body among millions.
There's some who think of the fame and glory that war brings, and some who just know it's their duty. And then there's some, like me, who don't want to die whether it's their duty or not. Or whether they get applauded for bravery or not.
But, as I grip my rifle, my hands sweaty against the coldness of the metal, I keep going. Despite the fear. Despite the pain.
A sharp cascade of popping rips open the ground right before me. And then, my eye catches the glitter of a handful of stars sprinkled above me. The same stars my mother sees when she looks up walking home from church in Orange Hollow. The same stars my own Louisa sees from her attic window in Boston. The same stars that God sees from His place in Heaven.
"Thank you, Lord." I whisper.
The man next to me can't understand."What for?"
It's not as dark now. I can't see the sun from where I'm laying on my back in the mud, but I see the faint streaks of gold crisscrossing across the deep gray of the sky. And I know morning is coming.
The day will bring me either rescue and aid, or I will face my Maker. I can feel the pain coursing through my body, and I am stiff with cold. But I am not afraid.
Sometimes, bravery comes in different ways. It's always the hero that get's talked about. Saving people's lives, and doing great deeds. But then there's the others, the ones that do what they're supposed to, even when they don't want to. Even when they end up dying without notice, without fanfare or recognition. The kind of people who live their lives as best as they can with the Good Lord's help, and then quietly slip away. They've won their victories.
Just with a different kind of courage.
"Thank you, Lord." I whisper as I wait for whatever is to come.
"For what?" I can almost hear it.
So, what do you think? I'd love to hear in the comments below! :) Also, if any of you did the January Music Challenge with me, feel free to share your story with us.
Have a lovely day, you all!