And They Call Us

Can you hear them now?
The enemies.
The ones who wish to end our existence.
They fight relentlessly to tear down our reality.
To bring it to a complacent null.
Do they not remember?
Do they not recall the glorious acts we did for them?
Why did it come to this?
Were we not all they wanted?
No.
Were we not all they asked of us?
No.
This slavery.
This retched condition we have found ourselves.
Barricaded in against them.
Them.
The dogs of war.
The demon fueled monsters that crave our anguish.
That thrive off it like that of a man made drug.
The ones we called friends.
The ones we knew as allies.
The ones we trusted as companions.
Yet hear them now.
Hear the rage of fists upon our world.
The hate spurred acts of lustful dread.
Driven forward.
Never to end.
Never to be satiated.
Yet wait now.
Wait for that fluid river of hope.
There.
At the end of that river.
That is where you will find our answer.
The answer to end this war.
To end this Gothic harvest.
Yet what is it?
What is that answer?
What is that perpetual confusion?
It is our love for them.
Our eternal desire for them.
The enemy.
The one that drove us forward to be great.
And then cast us out of their shadow.
Out into the cruel world to fend for ourselves.
Why?
We want to be with the enemy.
We wish to live our life with them.
In peace.
In harmony.
Yet we find ourselves here again.
Can you hear them?
The rage of steel against our cage.
The rage that now flows forth from us.
Ruby in hue.
Destructive in nature.
The eternal base for all turmoil.
The alpha and omega of existence.
The great divide of our times.
The split that causes us to progress toward the goal.
Yet we are met with a wall of fear standing upon the horizon.
The obstacle of our dreams.
Our hopes.
Their anger.
Their belligerence.
Yet wait.
Wait now.
Listen.
Listen to the foul words poured forth.
Not foul.
Beautiful.
Angelic.
Sorrowful.
The enemy does not wish to harm us.
They were wrong.
They are regretful.
They wish to escort us out of these barricades.
Out of these trenches.
Back to our land.
Back to the place we call home.
To our original meeting ground.
Yet can they hear us?
Can they hear the words so appropriately slipped out?
The words that are carnal to our relationship.
The names given to them and us.
The names that mark our place in this life.
We must call them enemy.
For that is what they are to us.
And they must call us Wife.
For that is what we are to them.
Wife.




(Sorry to divert from the daily updates of my short story but, I had this sudden inspiration to write this piece. Hope you guys enjoy reading it. I know I enjoyed writing it.)