What Remains

Bombs burst overhead as you stand in a trench full of mud. Your eye's are intensely focused down range because this is a matter of life or death.

You fire, fire, fire, fire and fire again! Pop, pop, pop, pop, pop!

The line must be held even as you feel the hands of adversity and anguish brush over you. Suddenly, the footsteps of bullets marching out of your rifle go silent and all that remains is the desperate but rhythmic clicking of your finger hitting the trigger. You shout to yourself, "Please one more! Just give me one more!!"

The pause in your firing signals to the world that it's time to start their final assault. The distant words of "CHARGE" leap into the air and gallop towards your ears. Suddenly, in the distance, 40,000 soldiers rise from their position and head straight for you.

This is it, the nightmare has finally manifested. Tossing your empty rifle onto the soil, you grab your knife from its sheath, muster up any remaining energy and with the force of clapping thunder, strikeout like a mighty lion after pray.

There are no thoughts of death, tomorrow or yesterday as the gap between you and the 40,000 quickly closes. 

CUTTING AND SWINGING as YOU FIGHT! One after another they fall. Suddenly the punch of pain resonates through your body as someone behind you plunges their bayonet into your flesh. You turn and make swift work of your assailant. Gnashing of teeth and soulless bodies hitting the ground is the song of the day.

As quickly as it began, it ends and silence lays her head onto the battlefield. The 40,000 has been reduced to shadows as your weary body stumbles backwards and fall to its knees. Heart pounding and your eyes open to the vapors of breath lifting into the sky. Battle scared but you're alive and for the first time, you're able to survey what remains - 5 fellow fighting brothers and a tattered Bible.

Now you know exactly what to take into the next battle of your life. 

Kyle Christian Steele