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Sunday, May 27, 2012

Friends; Despite The Fighting

Prompt: Write about something ugly — war, fear, hate, cruelty — but find the beauty (silver lining) in it.
         

            This is my memoir of how I met my best friend, and how the fear and fighting were not even enough to keep our friendship from growing strong. There were times when it seemed it might, but we were always able to work past those.                
                                                     ***
Growing up, there isn’t a time I can remember when my village, Nortvale, was not feuding with the neighboring village, Sinisville. The Elders of each village banned travel and trade between the villages. The fighting had been going on so long, that by that time I’m not sure anyone even remembered how it all started anymore. But in school they taught us it was because the people of Sinisville were greedy and tried to steal our farmlands long ago.
                I remember how, as a child, I loved to sneak past the village guards and play in the surrounding fields.  The Elders had warned all parents to watch their children and not let them out of the village alone; for fear that they might be captured by Sinisville. At first I stayed close to Nortvale when I played, but it wasn’t long before I needed more adventure in my outings. Every day I explored farther and farther away from the village; walking all the way around it as far away as I dared sometimes.
                One day I had ventured farther away than I ever had before, and came across a clearing in the field. As I entered the little clearing, I was surprised when I saw another child sitting there playing. The boy looked to be around the same age as me as I watched him. He didn’t notice me though, so I walked a little closer and said, “Hello.” My unexpected presence caused the boy to jump up with a startled gasp. “I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to scare you.” I said with a weak smile.
                He just stood there watching me for a while. Not saying anything, but not turning to leave either. As the silence and the piercing gaze began to reach an uncomfortable level, he finally said “Who are you?”
                I relaxed a little and sat down where I was. It had been a long walk from Nortvale that afternoon. I picked at the spear grass near me, looked up at him and replied, “My name is Jonas.” Then I just sat there playing with the little spears of grass as if I had forgotten he was even there.
                After a while, he sat down and began to pick at the grass as well. Every once in a while he would let his gaze venture to where I sat, as if he wanted to make sure I was still there. I ignored the looks and started folding the grass into spear people. Finally he gave an annoyed sigh and asked, “Well, aren’t you even gonna ask my name as well?”
                I looked up from what I was doing, and tried not to grin. “I hadn’t planned on it. I figured you would tell me when you were ready.” Once again I went back to working on my spear grass people. From the corner of my eye, I saw his face go a little red and had to fight not to laugh.
                The boy stood up then, dusted himself off and came over to where I sat. He gave a feeble smile, held his hand out to me and said, “They call me Mikey.”
                I took his hand with a grin and gave it a little shake. “So what are you doing way out here?” I asked as he sat down across from me. Before he could answer, I went on, “I snuck past the guards in my village so I could come explore.”
                He looked at me with a raised eyebrow for a moment, then said “I got tired of all the other kids from my village picking on me. So I waited till the watchman dozed off and just walked past him.” He picked up one of my spear grass people and looked at it. “How’d you do this?”
                There was a silent acknowledgement between us that we shouldn’t be talking. But there was also a silent acknowledgement that neither of us cared. So I picked more spear grass and began to show him how I had done it.
                We spent the entire afternoon making spear grass armies, fighting mock battles of our villages. But the sky began to grow pale with the evening, and both our stomachs growled with hunger. I stood, dusted myself off, and walked to the edge of the clearing I had entered at. I looked back to see Mikey walking across to his original side and called out “Meet ya here tomorrow?” He grinned big and nodded before disappearing into the crop.
                                                           ***
                Our friendship went on like that even as we grew older. It seemed the more our two villages fought, the closer friends we became. Sometimes we would argue whose village was right and whose wasn’t, but always when the next day came, it didn’t matter anymore. When I was old enough, I chose to leave Nortvale. I wanted to travel the world and have grand adventures. I stopped off in Sinisville first, claiming to be from a different village. The next day Mikey and I set out and haven’t been back since.

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