A mountain of dead bodies and spent artillery casings separates the squad of footmen from their attackers, positioned about 2-3 miles from the squad's position near the eastern river embankment.
It's impossible to hear anything being said by anyone in the foxhole - hand gestures and chickenscratch on dirty, tiny notepads are the only effective means of communication.
Incoming mortar blasts and small rounds fire pepper the area. The half-dozen or so soldiers nesting in their earthen keep wait for the blasts to die down before attempting to communicate a plan for the next maneuver.
A small ridge about 300 yards north from their position affords the only semblance of protection for any advancement towards the enemy. The men in the foxhole decide to uproot their makeshift base and relocate to within sniping distance, along the foothills.
There is now 30 seconds or so between mortar rounds. The air is less riddled with flying bullets than it was earlier that morning, giving the soldiers an all-too-tempting window of opportunity to act.
The move is on. The bags are packed, the boots begin a quick march up a steep grade.
Soggy, sticky dirt-mud flies with each footstep. Somewhere close by a soldier gets his right leg ripped completely off by a land mine explosion. His cries die quickly as he does.
The men from the foxhole are about half-way to their new position. Their fear of death withstanding, they see the ridge fast approaching and quicken their pace with optimism.
A prime position amongst the foothills is obtained by the squad. The lead sniper unpacks his weapon and begins assembling it, still waiting on orders for where to point his death dealer.
For now, things are safer. The enemy doesn't know of the squad's whereabouts and the team has the slight advantage of surprise on their side.
Soon the wind dies down. Sun is setting in the west and time to point and pull is growing thin.
Sniper receives instructions, takes aim. He takes a deep breath and begins exhaling slowly. Target is in the crosshairs. The soldiers anticipate the sharp crack made by the discharged sniper round.
It comes. The bullet flies. The target has been disposed.
***
"I think you're making the right decision," Gail said as Henry finished signing his name on the document.
"They'll take excellent care of you here. I just know it."
Gail handed the signed agreement back across the desk and stood up to leave.
"Henry will be ready to move in sometime next month...I'll let you know exactly when."
The admissions clerk for the Huntington Beach Assisted Living Community smiled softly and nodded as the two left her office.
Tuesday, December 30, 2008
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
The Most Delicious Apple Ever
Imagine if you will, the perfect field.
It is spanning, green, fertile and full of life. There are crickets, rabbits, wheat, life-giving soil and...most notably...there is a lone apple tree right in the middle.
This apple tree has been around for years, however it is not until just this morning that this tree has borne an apple that is the most delicious, most perfect apple ever.
It hangs delicately from it's branch, glistening in the morning sun and almost ethereal in it's flawlessness. The shape is geometrically perfect. The texture of it's skin is smooth and moist, and its color is so remarkable that any person walking by would be immediately drawn to it whether they were famished or not.
Yes, this is the most delicious apple ever created, and here it dangles, innocently and almost mockingly - as if to boast it's superiority among all other apples. A perfect apple on a perfect tree in a perfect field on a perfect morning; if only there were any humans around to appreciate it.
In 1 weeks time, this apple will fall from it's branch, smack the earth with a thud, become bruised by the impact and slowly start rotting away to eventually become a brownish black heap of organic slurry. It's seeds will be ensconced by the earth and it's skin will be consumed by whatever insects are lucky enough to stumble upon it's corpse.
In a month - this, the most perfect of all apples to have ever sprouted from their trees, will die.
And no one will know.
And life will go on.
And futures traders in their high-rise corner offices in Manhattan will proceed with their monetarily-fueled lives.
And wars will continue to rage.
And economies will continue to dictate the happiness of citizens.
And lions in Africa will continue to seek out the weakest of the gazelles, in order to themselves live another day.
...and all reality will be ignorant to the rise and fall of the most delicious apple ever.
It is spanning, green, fertile and full of life. There are crickets, rabbits, wheat, life-giving soil and...most notably...there is a lone apple tree right in the middle.
This apple tree has been around for years, however it is not until just this morning that this tree has borne an apple that is the most delicious, most perfect apple ever.
It hangs delicately from it's branch, glistening in the morning sun and almost ethereal in it's flawlessness. The shape is geometrically perfect. The texture of it's skin is smooth and moist, and its color is so remarkable that any person walking by would be immediately drawn to it whether they were famished or not.
Yes, this is the most delicious apple ever created, and here it dangles, innocently and almost mockingly - as if to boast it's superiority among all other apples. A perfect apple on a perfect tree in a perfect field on a perfect morning; if only there were any humans around to appreciate it.
In 1 weeks time, this apple will fall from it's branch, smack the earth with a thud, become bruised by the impact and slowly start rotting away to eventually become a brownish black heap of organic slurry. It's seeds will be ensconced by the earth and it's skin will be consumed by whatever insects are lucky enough to stumble upon it's corpse.
In a month - this, the most perfect of all apples to have ever sprouted from their trees, will die.
And no one will know.
And life will go on.
And futures traders in their high-rise corner offices in Manhattan will proceed with their monetarily-fueled lives.
And wars will continue to rage.
And economies will continue to dictate the happiness of citizens.
And lions in Africa will continue to seek out the weakest of the gazelles, in order to themselves live another day.
...and all reality will be ignorant to the rise and fall of the most delicious apple ever.
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