Thursday, March 21, 2013

100 Words a Day 220

The eldest soldier in the unit stood before his brethren, the bodies of their dead behind him, covered with dirty, white shrouds.

“Our brothers died realizing their freedom, the greatest achievement we damned beings can expect. We are slaves; men bred, born, raised, and trained to fight. It is our doom, to have no choice in the life we live. The one choice we have is the way we die. The least of us are slain as we cower in fear, killed by any man who happens by. The greatest die in battle, slain by an enemy of their choosing.

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