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14th June |
| Written by Jody | |
| Tuesday, 08 April 2008 | |
A swirling skirt, thousands of promises whispering in the rippling red, white and blue, dancing upon the breeze, rose to the heavens. A hand at every brow, the other clamped to their side, a proud memory glistening in every eye. One young man, frozen, his hand cemented to his forehead in salute, a monument to the hundreds crowded below him, clustered on the grass, monochromatic ants in navy uniforms. Sweat glistens on his chiselled cheekbones, his olive eyes darting over the flag, almost directly above his head, bearing down on him, the weight of every patriotic heart on his young shoulders. Breathing a sigh of relief as ‘Star Spangled Banner' finally fades into the echoing mountains behind him, leaving him strangely exhausted, as though every ounce of his energy now resided in the flag that he, Jonathan Edward Foster had raised. Stepping down, quickly, yet respectfully, he disappeared, aware of the tears glistening in so many hooded eyes, for those lost, those remaining, for future given and stolen. His chest was tight as he stepped into the sweltering barn, glad to be free from the glaring Stars and Stripes. Laughter rang down from above; he jumped, glancing to the weathered beams, high above him. ‘You finally came back to me.' Jack's voice was thick with boredom, his ragged pants finally visible, swinging from a thick beam, his leathery hands gripping the aged timber. ‘Jack, come down, please.' A smirk twisted Jonathan's thin lips as he threw the peaked cap to the hay at his feet, watching his friend clamber to the dust-ridden floor beside him. ‘You should have been outside.' ‘Oh, did I miss the show?' Jack shook his charcoal hair from hazel eyes, smiling at the responding frown. ‘Sorry but does seem so utterly pointless, worshiping one flag when there must be so many' Drawing closer, he pulled Jonathan to him, the starched navy collar clutched in his fist, whispering sweet treason. 'What is a mere piece of cloth when compared to the human heart? The mind? The body?' Shoving him roughly back, he stammered hesitantly, ‘Jack please, it unites the country-' ‘In war. You said yourself that ever you were unsure, excuse me but if the one man who raises the flag for the Promised Land, if he is not sure, then who can be?' He was met with a stunned silence, the air between them thick with sweat, tension and confusion. The firm set of Jonathan's mouth, his feet rooted to the ground as his thoughts like molasses slowly flowed through his mind, wafting from one argument to the next. He was hauled back to the present as Jack began to draw closer, a predator stalking his long-awaited prey. He was thrown against the gristly column, splinters and dirt showering over him, pinioned, their faces inches apart. ‘Jack-' he begged, struggling in vain. ‘All I want is freedom,' he growled, soft features suddenly menacing in the dimming light. ‘This is how I get it in your world is it not?' ‘No, listen, please,' he choked, an almost indistinguishable note of sympathy in his voice, ‘you have it wrong; you seem to have the whole world wrong Jack.' ‘Do I? If I run out and burn that flag, what will happen? If I tear it from its coveted throne, what will happen? Will I even survive? But if you destroy a poem, a man's heart, a man's true soul, what will happen? They would never even blink.' Jonathan froze, his heart hammering against his chest, staring unsteadily into his friend's crazed eyes. Shaking his head, he grappled with the thoughts coursing through him. Jack finally let go, shuddering, backing away before sprinting from the barn, bounding to the rocky outcrop, hidden in the valley. Fighting for composure, Jonathan crouched in the dying light of the sunset, slumped against the same, sturdy beam. The final tide of cheers and whistles washed over him, hauling him mindlessly to his feet, rejecting him, receding into darkness as he began to stumble down the hill. A bon-fire seemed to leap from the darkness, throwing lurid shadows over the rugged hillside. The two lay sprawled, panting with unexplainable exhaustion, the steep drop below them barely visible, indistinguishable trees rising from the shadows. Letting the laughter and dull clinking of beer glasses wash over them as they attempted to re-arrange their thoughts, every word on their tongues refusing to fit into a sentence. ‘Master Foster?' The officer's gravely tones finally pulling him towards the undying celebration, throwing him against the flagpole, his fingers tugging numbly at the rope before him. His eyes glazed over as he unclasped the steel rings, every eye glued to him, to the stiff movements of his arms, to the Stars and Stripes. No one seemed to notice that he never returned the flag to its case, letting him fade into the shadows. Jack watched him unsteadily as he sank slowly to the ground, the Star-Spangled Banner draped around his shoulders. The sun finally rose on the young men, slung together underneath Old Glory, discovered by one of the early risers from the night before, woken to alien shouts. ‘Slander!' ‘Aspersion!' ‘Defamation!' Men began to swarm over the hillside, first in grim trickles, before the thundering of footsteps silenced every heartbeat. The two young men, outnumbered stared blankly back, the advancing tide forcing them further back. Their shattered bones would be forever entwined in the Old Glory, never to be resurrected.Copyright 2008 Jody |
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