Morning all and happy Labor Day! I’ll keep this short as I am really declaring this a day off once the prompts are posted. So Timers set and let’s get going.
I like the character. Not sure where I’ll use him though.
Monday, September 2nd: The cannon boomed loudly.
The cannon boomed loudly. It rattled Stephen’s teeth and shook his bones. He tried to tell himself it was just the reverberations and not fear causing him to shake. He wasn’t certain he believed himself. He had been drilling for months but this was his first time in actual combat.
‘I’m out of direct combat,’ he tried telling himself. He didn’t believe that lie either. He had seen many people killed on the battlements. He knew there would be no safe zone until the battle was over and even then, only if they won.
What would happen if they lost did not bear contemplation.
The order came and after so much drilling, Stephen lifted his rifle into position before his brain could even register the command. He felt his breath steady as he set his sites. Moving helped settle him. It was the waiting, the watching the not knowing if he would be up to the mark when the time came that made him shake and second guess things. Now, the orders were given and he knew what he had to do and he did it. His bones steadied even though they shook every time the cannon was fired.
The order to fire came and Stephen began picking out his targets. In practice they told him not to think of the targets as people ass it might make him pause and rethink his orders. Stephen planned to think of them in the same way he thought of the clay pots he lined up on the fence for target practice when he was a child. In truth, here and now, he didn’t think of the targets as anything. He merely sited, shot, changed guns and sited again. The guns were reloaded after he fired by his assistant. Harold was a poor shot at the best of times but he was speedy with the reloading and he made sure Stephen had what he needed. Their Sargent called them the perfect pair. Stephen took forever to load but could hit almost any target dead center. Together they were a perfect pairing.
Time ceased to have any meaning. Stephen simply sited shot and switched. The rhythm repeated over and over until he heard the order to stop. It wa only then that he lifted his rifle from the battlements that he realized the battle was over. There was no more attacking force. He sighed and felt something run out of him like water from a cracked cistern. He felt suddenly boneless.
He was handed a dipper of cool water and he drank thirstily hoping no one noticed his hand was shaking. He saw Harold who nodded weakly at him. He seemed to feel the same boneless release of tension that he did. Their Sargent went by and clapped both of them on the shoulders. He nodded his approval, a brief paused before he continued on. Stephen wondered if he would dream of the dead. He wondered if once he closed his eyes they would become people again instead of the faceless enemy who needed to be kept from the gate.
It wasn’t something anyone ever talked about and he didn’t know who he could ask. He knew some who would view even thinking about the enemy as people a borderline traitorous act and he decided to keep it to himself. Harold inclined his head towards the left where the others were coming. The relief team was soon in place. They would keep watch while the other’s rested. Stephen turned away from the battlements.
Ten til Midnight 