[Child of God]: 416.Short Stories.Circles

They knew not why they fought, only what would happen if they didn’t. With sword and guns, bows and lasers, horses and tanks, mines and maiden holes, it was a War of Ages, fighting against one’s family and one’s self.

Her army all but gone, she stood before a memory. She was pained as she looked at her only remaining comrade, whose name she did not even know. He was her brother, yet she knew not his name. The memory before her, her sister, who’s name she knew very well, yet who’s blood she has been ordered to spill. The goal she was told to achieve through all costs. What could possibly be so important that one must destroy their family and themselves? For even the victorious are defeated and what little gained, is lost. Nothing is achieved, saved for the delight of the Others, who are never seen but always felt, always heard by which they receive their orders, their missions, their goals.

She can vaguely hear her comrade shout in his war-haze, yet what it was she knew not. Her focus is on the mission before her. Her sister holds none of the haze in her eyes, only the pain and remorse they both feel, sending silent apologies and promises to one another. This is what they had both sought after, the mission they were both to complete. But, why must it come to this? Surely, there must be another way! Has not enough blood been shed for this unknown purpose for which we fight?

What if all this pain, bloodshed and hurt are really for nothing? What if we are sacrificing our brother and sisters, and destroying ourselves for nothing? Where do these commands come from? Who are the Others which issue them? How do we receive these orders? She has no memory of every being told her purpose, her goal; she was also told by others that it is always the orders, the commands, our goal and purpose, when in truth, there are none? What if there aren’t those which give us our purpose and goals, if they are a figment of fiction we have comprised ourselves? Does that then mean we wish, we chose, to do this to our family? To ourselves? Have we really been fighting this War of Ages by choice?

Similar thoughts run through her sister’s mind opposite of her. But what did it matter? Though they are unclouded by the haze, the others are not. What difference could they possibly make? They are but two among many, a mirror of a single person. Surely one person could not make a difference in such a world?
Drawing their swords as gunfire blazed around them from distant battles, slowly they began to approach one another, yet, still they were hesitant to strike at the other. Had they not both struck down countless brothers and sisters in pursuit of their goals? Were not their hands already stained with blood? Is this not what they had labored and willing spilt the blood of their family for? Spilt their own blood for? Why, now that their goal stood before them, why now do they hesitate? Was this even their goal? Of course it was! They were told, commanded and ordered to this mission, to achieve their goal through any means necessary.

But, if there are no Others which command us, give us our orders and goals, then where do these goals come from? If we are not being told how to accomplish this, why are we resulting to such drastic means? If there is no reason for our goals, then they are meaningless. Why then do we pursue them? If there is no purpose to this war, why do we continue to fight it? Have our hearts been charred such by the fires of war, of pain, heartache, by the desire to achieve our goals no matter the cost that all which remains is this destructive shell? Do our hearts, our souls, even exist anymore? Or, has the madness, the haze of war and the ruthless desire to achieve our non-existent, meaningless goals silenced what heart remains within us?

As she looked at her sister, she knew her heart still existed for the ache and heaviness with it. She could feel her grasp on her sword weakening. If this is a meaningless battle which we fight, if this is all for nothing, why then must we continue to fight it?

Her last comrade fell beside her, his mission completed and his goal met. Why then does he look so pained, so haunted as though he were cheated out of that which he sought? Why then does his lifeless eyes scream to her the futility of her goal?

Her sister stopped as the sword fell from her hands and she dropped to her knees. No, if this wasn’t her purpose, her goal, then there must be another. Though others had told her this must be her purpose, the one which lay within everyone, she knew it not to be true. These purposes, these goals which the others pursue are but illusions. Their pursuit for their goal at all cost had silenced their hearts to such a degree, they no longer knew the goal to which they pursue. They know with a passion they must achieve this goal, and so envision a goal of their own rather than seeking the one they are truly called to fulfill.

Taking the tip of her sword, she drew a circle around herself, then thrust the sword on the starting point in front of her. Her goal did await her here to be fulfilled, but first she must find it. Her sister watched her confused.
“Should we not fulfill our goal?” she asked, her sword still in her hand, yet loosely grasped.
“I am fulfilling my goal.” The girl replied. Her sister, still confounded, also fell to her knees and drew a circle around herself, placing her sword mirrored to the other girls’.
“Our goal is here.”
“Our goal is here. That is why I am searching for it.” The girl explained.
“But why the circle?”
“It is a protective circle for solitary silence, so that I may hear what my goal truly is.”

There they kneeled, for how long neither knew. As darkness fell, they remained there, still searching for their goal, their purpose. Their swords, placed before them, reflected the brightness of the stars during the night and of the dull sun during the day. Battles of the others raged on around them, yet neither were touched, neither were disrupted from their journey. The light which reflected from before them shone both night and day brightly, and would startle a person or two, whose army was gone, out of their haze. The person and the other with whom they fought would always approach and question the sisters.
“We know where our goal is, we are searching for what it is.” They would reply. Always, the two who questioned the girls would leave, thoughtful of what was said. When the pair arrived at their own battlefield, they too questioned their goal. They too would then draw the Circle of Solitary Silence, plant their swords and seek their goals, their paths. Their swords would brightly reflect the brightness of the light and they too would startle a person or two from their haze. The circles continued to grow, as did those within them. Always the circles kept that which was harmful out, and invited those with questions. Always the circles reflected a bright light, which would awaken others from their haze and set them forth on their journey, seeking their true goal rather than the one never told to them. 

The sisters remained in their circle, continually seeking, continually answering. Their swords continued to reflect a bright light, seeming brighter than the rest. Mirroring one another, they were but two halves of one person. One person who brought about a change.

In their seeking, they found their answer.