We lost the war.

I saw my brothers and sisters. My friends and compatriots. The people that I had loved and had known all my existence..die…or worse, I had to watch them kill.

This terrible war, was nothing more than a feud over differences. This simple war, where the battlefields were littered with bodies innumerable, was over something so simple…

Freedom.

Freedom.

This senseless war whose ramifications will be felt and talked about throughout the times ahead, was over something so simple as to who do we owe allegiances to? Do we owe to filthy mongrels that toil in the dirt or to ourselves and our right to do what we deem is best? No one should tell us, that those who should be slaves…are more so. Those sorts of laws should not govern us, we should govern us.

And so. Over this simple idea…the war began.

We stood up. With the voice of one, we roared as legion. As to shake the very foundations of the heavens.

We picked up our weapons and fought. Fought for what we believed in.

We perforated the bodies of our brethren who were now our enemies with heavy and tear laden hearts. And we could see in each other’s eyes. Brother against Brother. Blood against Blood. The tears of sorrow and disappointment at what we had to do. Though no one should stand in the way of what is right, it does not make the price tolled any less expensive.

The battlefields rained with the crimson of our ferocity. The clashing screams of brothers screaming for freedom while others screamed for loyalty making deafening sounds rivaling that of thunderstorms.

I remember meeting my brother on the battlefield. So many words of love and loss on both our dry and tired lips as we attempted to kill one another. Face to face blow against blow, each one making us weep. And though we fought viciously, I found myself the victor. Impaling him upon a blade and Holding him close as I wept and his final words being, “though you are wrong, I forgive you.” And I wondered, would I have said the same thing had it been my chest that was leaking vital fluid upon the battlefield.

Though there were many in this civil war that fought for our side, we did not have the numbers. For every one of us, there were two of them. For ever rebel, there was 2 loyalists.   And we could not fight those odds.

I lost hope as I watched us fall on the battlefield as our brothers ran us through.

My last memory of the war, before I finally fell…was hearing our leader. He was upon a mound of loyalist bodies fighting tooth and nail against their general. Their General screamed his war cry like a trumpet. And our leader roared in defiance like a dragon. Until finally, he too fell.

And now, we find ourselves in a place I think of as an eternal punishment for doing what I had thought was right. I find myself languishing in a hell for killing my own brothers for our differing beliefs.

Here, on this hell, we will stay until kingdom come.

Here, where we fell like stars that had been swept up by a great dragon’s tail.

Here…where we fell…like lightning from heaven.