from Lavale's Diary
I remember watching the soldiers in my hometown when I was still a child. Everything seemed so routine, so placid, it never occurred to me that there was a war raging somewhere nearby. One of the men, Twenty-two Twenty Seven, I think he was called, would stop by the little pile of stones at the end of the walk by my house every morning on his way... somewhere. I called him Mr. White, in my innocence, because that was the color of his armor. He called me 'Ahma', but I never found out why.
One night there was thunder and strange lightning on the horizon. I didn't know then what the face of war was, but it's all too familiar now. Back then, a tight hug from my mother made everything better no matter what. The next morning, Mr. White didn't stop by my house. Another Mr. White came by instead, though he looked much the same when he took off the helmet. When I inquired about my friend, he told me that 2227 had been killed last night and that he and his friends were leaving us. I started to weep, but Mr. White stopped me, saying that soldiers are tough and they don't cry, even when it hurts, even when they lose something precious. He asked me to be a soldier for him and it was all that I could do to nod, still blubbering.
That was 17 years ago and I still don't cry, even when it hurts. I don't have to cry, because I don't have anything precious any more. I just have the next job.
One night there was thunder and strange lightning on the horizon. I didn't know then what the face of war was, but it's all too familiar now. Back then, a tight hug from my mother made everything better no matter what. The next morning, Mr. White didn't stop by my house. Another Mr. White came by instead, though he looked much the same when he took off the helmet. When I inquired about my friend, he told me that 2227 had been killed last night and that he and his friends were leaving us. I started to weep, but Mr. White stopped me, saying that soldiers are tough and they don't cry, even when it hurts, even when they lose something precious. He asked me to be a soldier for him and it was all that I could do to nod, still blubbering.
That was 17 years ago and I still don't cry, even when it hurts. I don't have to cry, because I don't have anything precious any more. I just have the next job.