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The End of a Soldier

I take a knee to rest my weary frame. For I am not the young soldier I once was. No longer will I fear death, now I welcome it with open arms. As I look out across the barren landscape I begin to reflect on my life. My past has been a maelstrom of bad memories, but a cheap bottle of wine seems to tame them for the moment. The bittersweet taste of wine and the dry texture of the gritty dust kicked up by the wind fills my mouth creating an irony blood like taste. How long must a man suffer?

As I kneel beneath the hot desert sun my black captains uniform absorbs the heat like a sponge soaks up water. It’s strange how even after wearing my now tattered and unkempt uniform for eleven years I wouldn’t be seen in anything else. I guess its not to odd for an old man to cling to the only thing he has left. Even if it is just the skeleton of what was once a proud and prestigious uniform.

I close my eyes as an attempt to escape this drunken reality that I have wandered into so carelessly. But all my senses just seemed to focus on my heart pounding in my chest. It was at that moment I new I was truly alone and defeated. As I opened my eyes, the mountains on the other side of the expansive desert caught my attention. Something about them made me curious. The thought of the many battles and adventures that could be had just over the mountains made me feel like a young man again. I fantasized about crossing the desert and climbing the mountains to see what treasures awaited me on the other side. My dream was cut short but the reality of the desert. A weary soul such as mine could not passable survive a casual trek across such an unforgiving desert, let alone climb a mountain. It pains me every time i look at those doughty mountains in the distance because it reminded of the life I will never have again.

A deep breath and a drink of wine always calm my nerves. Is this what will define the rest...