Friday, December 12, 2008

Coward in Warrior's Cloak

My father, well-known for his bravery and wisdom, is a great strategist and commander. Many of them adore him and look upon him as god of war.

Battlefields, war cries, battle cries, corpses, bloodshed and glory - his experiences on all of these are very rich. His story must have been written in the books of our history. He never fails to amuse me. But many didn't knew, I am the opposite of my father.

I never wished to become just like him. I dream of becoming a painter someday. But it is a disgrace in the family and in the eyes of the clan if I would negate their decisions for me and if I would pursue my ambitions. All of them call me coward (the awful truth).

All the gentlemen in our clan - when getting on ripe age - would surely join the army. Just like my elder brothers - they garnered nobility because they were soldiers like my brave father). The medal of honor and prestige marked in the clan's name was the valid reason why I was forced to join the army.

Many times I have been on war zones. But through all those battles and victories, my cowardice remains. I had live to fill the expectations of others, but they didn't have any idea that everytime a battle begins ... i usually hide myself, afraid of being slaughtered. Oftentimes I would hide under heavy dead bodies or just play dead.

One night came, we were set to camp in a war zone. I pleaded to my father - the leader, not to continue the battle and just fall back now for we are incapacitated to fight. But my father's will is strong. He agitated the army to continue the fight against the enemy's horde. To him, it was always an honor to fight. Not even I, his youngest on, could break his command. Afterall, he's famous in delivering his army to the mouth of triumph. I was still afraid, I am always afraid. But now, not for myself, but for my father and elder brothers.

Daybreak blooms as the enemies came nearer. The battle has began. Flying lances, galloping horses, wails and clashing of swords were heart from almost every corner. I was attacked and i learned to defend myself - living for the sake of my father and brothers. But as i saw my comrades butchered, the crippling fear was crawling to get me. I got hurt, not with bruises and wounds, but by watching my elder brothers fall down unto the ground ... one by one, slain. I came to look for my beloved father. But it was too late to save a life. Not from distance, there i saw a body covered with blood in the face, lying on the floor, it was my father. My beloved father.

War is over for me. Seeing my brothers and my father dead, I had enough. My heart is sad and sick. From where the sun now stands, I will fight no more. I felt something hard stabbed me from behind, flashbacks ... my dream of becoming a painter, fades.

I never wanted to be like my father. I wanted to live, they call me a coward. I died a coward, they call me hero.

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