The Grafton Voice

It seemed ironic that this moment of love was shared in the middle of times of war. I sat in fields of wheat with the only woman I had ever loved in my life, while the wind whipped around us. We barely noticed the gunfire in the distance as we embraced for what seemed like forever. The beasts I had felt in my soul were melted away. The men I’d killed in battle were of no consequence now. It was only in this one moment on this farmland hill that I felt at peace, no matter what the surrounding circumstances.

This senseless war was started by the revolutionaries. Always the revolutionaries. Always rebelling against someone. It was as if any kind of authority, no matter how beneficial, was against them. Can’t have rules without a system. You have to have rules. Always rules, rules, rules. Keeps the people in line. Without a system, we’d all be wandering aimlessly from town to town, like the wind. Nobody wants to be one of them accursed nomads these days.

Eyes like ocean, hair like silk. I had long since remembered her face in my dreams. All it would take was one of those quick, knowing smiles to get my pulse racing. There stood a goddess, I swear to you. This young girl I had grown with was a young girl no more. I remembered her sad eyes when I had gone off to war, but with a hopeful and encouraging smile that I would return safely. It was all I needed to keep me going.

Fire. Fire everywhere. This had been the first town I had seen torched this way. As the inferno ravaged building after building, there was a destructive beauty about it. A disease-ridden town such as this could only be purged by fire. The ever-present wind only added to the damage, blowing the flames where it saw fit. From the squadron’s perch on high, it could only be more breathtaking. These poor, plagued people were lucky we got to them this soon. Those were the words of the battalion’s Captain.

This hill was our spot. It always had been. The only rise in the wheat fields, the lone tree at the top, the place we had met. The place we would always meet thereafter. There had never been a doubt that it was meant to be. Just on the outskirts of town where the farmland began, this was a place of great solitude and privacy. It had always been special. Now, and forever more, this place is sacred to me.

As I returned from the bloodiest battle we had all ever seen, I had climbed the hills surrounding our town, and sunk to my knees upon seeing my home again. The wind was warm this day. I had thoughts of seeing her all through my journeys. I had struck down many, I had done great deeds with only the hope of seeing her once again. So when the two worlds of war and love collided, life had been thrown into an uproar.

Once again, after the years I had waited, we sat on this hill. This sacred hill. The wind around us, the wheat blowing, the look and the smile. Perfection. Silence came for a moment, then broken by a nearby gunshot. I had scarcely the time to realize what happened until my love was sprawled out upon the ground, struck down by one stray bullet piercing her flesh and running her through.

In the one time I had forgotten about my conflicts, where I had run from war, war had come to me. I could not see the foe who had killed my love, and the breath to save her would not come. It had all been in one second of bliss, shattered so suddenly in one second of violence. Where I sat now there could not have been enough of the warm winds to dry my tears, for I hadn’t tears enough for what had been taken away from me.

I buried my love that night, in the most sacred place to me. The place we had first met, the place we had last met. I roam the hillside and protect my love, although she no longer needs my protection. I speak to her still, although she cannot reply. The sacred hill has, through the inevitable clash of war, turned to a grave. And it is now fitting, that this warm wind that guided us through life and love, has now turned cold upon my face.

This story, “The Wind” was written by MDS Price and read by Mike Schwabe. This work is Copyrighted in the Creative Commons. You may copy and display this work in its entirety, but only for non-commercial uses, and only if full credit is given to the author.