Fiction – Jacob Everett Wallace

The eyes of a heart awaken from a deep respite made mandatory by the perils endured in recent conflicts. Great were the obstacles to be climbed, secured, and overrun. None would allow themselves to be removed easily, giving back in full the measure by which they were assaulted. Scars and battle wounds were mere trifles in the light of the raging fury by which they fought for supremacy.

But the bear, the lion or the giant cannot prohibit the Warrior Heart from beating the drum of war and declaring the sound of a victor; the sound of a courageous man who is ready to conquer his fears and stand for his beliefs. He is not strong in strength alone, but in the strength of his will to never back down or retreat; a passion to protect his kingdom from the advances of his foes; a desire to drive his neighboring demons into the sea until they are vanquished; and a resolve to conclude every battle as the unquestioned victor.

The Warrior Heart is not a ferocious warmonger only; he savors the simplicity of a morning sunrise as a symbol of his own dawn of a new day. He appreciates the beauty of the turning leaves as a new chapter of his existence. He sings along with the melodies of the wind and waves, lending his own baritone mark to the script of their brilliant symphony.

But not for too long; on the distant horizon the battle flags of the opposing army are seen emerging above the hills. The Warrior Heart is not afraid though. Rising slowly from the lush foliage of his own hill, a grin of subdued yet eager anticipation spreads across his still ruddy yet war-beaten face. Much slumber is not a thing of the wise. The Warrior Heart knows.

It came quickly and deadly. Like a tiger crouching in wait, it sprung with such ferocity that few were prepared. Most were caught off-guard. Perhaps it was a testament to the unpredictability of nature, perhaps more so a fresh reminder of the unreliability of the national weathermen to keep track of the biggest storm ever seen in this modern age

And nobody saw it coming, or at least nobody bothered to care.

What began as a joyous celebration upon the sighting of rain clouds forming toward the east, ended in some sort of incomprehensible hellish nightmare that dashed newly raised hopes and buried them in mountains of rubble and ruined dreams.

It was odd how despair could breed desperation enough to drive a man to his knees to implore a deity he didn’t believe in to save him, yet after he surfaced and began treading water again, sent that same deity to the back of his proverbial burner.

Odder still, were the widely different reactions the same adverse circumstance could produce in those it affected. Some responded well, others poorly, but few ever just gave up outright before the fight began. Perhaps it was the freedom to shake a fist and roundly curse their own existence that generated strength to persevere. Perhaps it was merely an indescribable inner resolve that could never be explained but always could be counted on to rise up in the the hearts of at least a few brave and courageous souls in the hour of affliction.

Courage was that rare commodity of which very few had in abundance, yet in the hour of affliction it only took one determined stand to infuse the hearts of the weak. In the same manner that evil arose, so also did the hero with enough faith to stop it.

It was strange how calamity could knit together. Disaster made for strong thread. It was more a question of who could work the needles.

Stranger still, was how some could see light where only darkness stood. Fire attracted to itself. Perhaps it was more a question of who had the willpower to kindle it.