Short Story: The Match

This is one of the earliest short stories I've ever submitted for a competition. 

Once, we lived happily on our own land; the land of our fathers and mothers. Brothers worked hard as the breadwinners of the family and sisters catered for the needs of the household. Children played with each other joyfully in the streets, in the river and in the wide green sea of grass surrounding our village–oblivious to the sad truths of the world, enjoying the innocence of their childhood.

Our race prospered by consuming the riches of the land. Our plants grew well and our livestock were healthy and aplenty. Foods were abundant and the river never receded so we never ran out of water. We heard some people say that this land was blessed by the Almighty God Himself. Some of them also said that the Words of the Creator originated from here.

For many years, we had never worried about wars or invasion. We, the people, had a complete faith in our leaders and government. We thought we’d never have to worry about any attacks even though rumours were circulated about a mighty power far, far away in a distant land. For us, Thyne was safe and out of danger of any invasion. We had strong men to fight the war if we were ever involved in one. Our country made friends with every neighbour at our borders. We had nothing to worry about, knowing safely that if there was going to be a war our friends would be there to help us.

Therefore, it didn’t cross our minds in the slightest that The Invasion was going to happen. It was bright and clear like any other mornings in Thyne. Men were out in the fields or doing some other chores. Children were playing with the water in the creek whilst their mothers washed clothes nearby. It was a typical day for everyone but all of a sudden, there was a shout, “HERE THEY COME! HERE THEY COME!”

The cruelty of war is that it takes away every man’s dream and drains out the joy of life that is in the soul of every person now clinging to the hopes of survival. Life itself is given a jolt and the right to live is taken away from the victims. Mine was the first village to be razed by the invaders. As Aereth, the lumberjack ran out of the woods screaming for help, a dozen arrows came swishing behind him and struck the old man at every part of his body, one piercing his head. As the realization started to dawn on every living soul witnessing the cruelty of the action, terror seized their minds and chaos reigned. Women collected their children, tears running down their worried faces shouting the names of their husbands, only to be matched by the squeals and whines of their children. Angry soldiers marched out of the woods brandishing shiny blades while the archers followed swiftly behind. Some men tried to make a barricade against the oncoming invaders but they were easily defeated. The brave men were soon hacked to death in front of the eyes of their own wives and children. I sensed terror rising inside my chest and my heart beat up a frantic rhythm. I felt very scared and helpless as I watched from afar how the advancing invaders destroyed everything in their path. I had already run to the edge of another forest, now waiting for my family to catch up. Everybody else, mostly women and children ran past me, fleeing the battle scene. The men had stayed behind to fight the invaders. Soon, my eldest brother and little sister reached me but instead of fleeing together, he placed Sara in my arms.

“Couldn’t save Mother…Father’s trying to hold them back with the others…have to help him…take Sara and…run for your life…don’t ever look back...and promise me you’ll look after Sara.” Then he was gone. It was the last time I’d seen him–Elzar, the brother whom I loved so much.

I tried to call him back and started to follow him when Sara’s cries drove my mind back to the present situation. I looked at Sara, her once bubbly and cheerful face now full of fears and worries. She was crying and calling out Elzar’s name at the same time. Realising the danger, I forced myself to pick Sara up and fled to the woods.

I couldn’t remember how long I’d been running. I felt utterly frightened, fearing that the enemy would track us down and slaughter us all. I sensed everyone else was feeling the same as they ran along with me. Our only thought was to survive. Sara had stopped crying. I guess maybe she had no more tears left to cry. All the time she’d never once loosen her grip on me. I kept telling her that everything would be fine and we were all going to be safe.

We were following a man to the next village. It was our only hope–for safety and to warn others. Throughout the journey, I had been dwelling on the unfairness of it all. I was wondering why the innocents were killed, civilians suffering from the blame they knew nothing about, families were broken, homes shattered, children taken away from their mothers; and felt a terrible pain. I thought about my mother, father and brother, all of whom I would never feel their love and warmth again; their laughters and voices kept ringing in my ears. It was utterly painful to think of someone you loved so much and knowing you would never touch and hold them again. I saw a bleak future in front of me and the dreams of a twelve-year-old boy dashed into pieces. I could not help thinking how miserable Sara’s future would be as well as the other young children’s. So young, so innocent and yet, so much pain to endure.

When we arrived at the next village, the dusk had only just fallen. Words had been received beforehand of the enemy attack on our village, so the whole village was already put on alert. The sentries had already been informed to look out for any survivors from the attacked village coming through the woods and not long after, we were given some food and allowed to rest for a while before embarking on yet another journey, this time to a safe, concealed place where the women and children, the old and sickly of the village had been removed to. I heard helps from the central city would be coming soon. Thyne had been alerted to the attacks and armies were being prepared and dispatched. The long battle was just then about to begin.

I knew not how long the war lasted. It felt like ages to me and Sara. While at the relocation camp, I watched miserably as Sara became more reserved and withdrawn as did the other young victims. Perhaps the terror, the knowledge that Elzar, Mother and Father were murdered had shaken and drawn the life out of her. I, myself, was suffering heavily from all the horrors–nothing to be expected or looked forward to each day, just fears and uncertainties.

A war is like a grand arena where humans fight each other, vanquishing one another’s opponents in order to pursue their own interests. Peace, love for other people and humanitarian values are all discarded and forgotten. Everyone is so intent on winning the match until they forget that their opponents are also fellow humans and however great our differences are–of colours, tongues and cultures, we deserve to live on our own land and with the leaders we ourselves have chosen.

The grand match is unending, so speak the truths evident through the annals of history. Men fight to gain what is best for them and more often than not, at the expense of others. Those who win the war earn the loathing and hate of their opponents. This is the grand match of human survival. They forget that to attain peace in the world, one should not just think about winning the match but learn also to respect their opponents’ rights and help them to get up. Only then, we can be equal and live in peace with each other.

This is what the war has taught Sara and me.