The breeze blew in thru the leaded cracked window that made the flame dance with delight, in came the first moths of summer as they got wed in the candle lit night. Outside you could hear Reynard screaming, sounded just like a maiden in fear, but the years had taught me the difference as an owl hooted out quite near.
I rested my head in the darkness thinking of the battle to come, as the old man was tapping his pipe out and Tiny was cleaning his gun. Porta was checking his orange, the one that he carried from Spain. It had rotted and swivelled and dried out, but he looked at it time and again.
He picked it that day leaving Barcelona, as young men we left for the war not knowing just what would befall us and just how many brothers would fall. Now three years are past well behind us and all of our talk is so old, no more the brash words of youth, now much more like old men that fight wars.
We all check our timepieces together as the officers start planning more death, it’s funny how the critters come out now once dark and all of the fighting’s at rest. They scurry out their burrows and hide holes, each one alert to each sound, trying to make sense of this madness as we all crawl about on the ground.
I drift off to sleep as I lay there and dream of a peace time with rest, away from this madness and mayhem, clean sheets hot water and bed. I awake to a noise like thunder loud shouting and banging and more, it’s my grandmother cleaning the fire out and calling me to my breakfast once more. I awake in my bed I was dreaming, as I start rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I take in the things that surround me and thank my god that peace still survives.