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A hymn for the fallen

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During the last few hours of daylight, John just sat there gazing into nothingness.

It had been days since he had last eaten, taken in any water and god only knew when he last slept.

His clothes were stained with blood and grit. Dirty oiled old duct tape held the slightly infected wounds closed, and at his feet was the old rugged backpack just dropped flat in the mud.

The campfire had mostly burned out, and the few pieces of ember still alive got slowly put to sleep by the drops of rain that yet again swept through the land.

”What a shithole, ey Mike” John whispered to himself, looking down at the rusty old buckeled dogtags in his hands. So many names, so many gone. So many he could not save, bring back or to say ”im sorry” to. They where gone now and had been for years.

John´s hands started to shiver yet again, and the dogtags just fell through his fingers and down in the mud.

” What i would not give for at least one nights sleep. ”

” I´m so sorry ”

” Ha. Look guys. The pussy is crying ” he heard infront of him from the young man and his pack of friends that came closing in.

” Hey old man. Lady of yours in bed with another or did ya loose your guts and got yer arse kicked ey? ” he said and laughed.

John looked up, and saw a few younger men that sat down in a semi cirkle infront of him. The leader apparantly sat in the center of them all and starred at John. They where all dressed like they thought this was some damn videogame in the arcade hall at home.

Welder googles, those junk knifes with the blade shaped in some tribal dragon pattern and they had painted their shirts with a symbol that was supposed to resemble two knifes crossing each other.

John just looked at them one by one and shook his head.

” Hey old man.. i wanna make a suggestion to you. You see we wan ” and that was all he had time to say when John suddenly interupted him.

” Look kid. This is not the time or place for this, and i got no energy to deal with you punks. You aint getting shit from me, and if you feel like trying, then go ahead. ”

The leader starred at his friends for confirmation almost on what to do, but then focused back on John.

You are young, you think this is some fucking game by the way you are dressed and how you try to be the big bad boss? ”

” You act tough and you roam around in packs barking at innocent people, rob them, harass them, but deep inside i see what you really are. You are scarred shitless. You should be, because you will not survive this you know. The reason is...you know nothing of war or suffering. It´s shown by how you act, how you look at others like you are the top of the foodchain. You are not.

One day, you will fall or mess up, and the walkers will get you. You will be screaming your lungs out while shitting your pants, and the last thing you will feel is pain like nothing else when the rotting fingers of a dead person digs their way into your body to devouer you.

Go play somewhere else kid, cause this is not a place for you.”

As John stopped talking, a small crowd of people gathered a few feet away and just starred at the now very silent so called leader who just sat there not exactly knowing what to say or do.

As the sun settled behind the toxic green and grey horizon, and left Chernarus in that sepia tone of an old WW2 movie, John got up and got out his old pocket flask and shook it.

” Been saving this for you guys ”

He stood facing out north and held up the flask in the same hand as all those engraved names on rusty pieces of metal hanging in chains, and yet again, he sang for them one and all, facing the crowd of other survivors that knew the pain of war, of loosing their beloved, but not their humanity.


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Awesome ^^

I thank you for the comment friend. Kindness makes Grihm smile =)

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A pleasure to read, seriously it's one of the best wroten story i have read here ! Congrats

Oh that´s very kind of you.

Thank you very much friend =)

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