A Little Hope by V. Donovan

“You have no idea what I went through.

I went through hell, and it’s not hell with a homed naked man who is the king of that awful place underground. I guess people call him Satan? I couldn’t care less about the names of fictional characters that humans made up. Hell that I saw was real. My panic was real, horrendous faces of my comrades were real, land was covered with blood, and it was. Dammit, real! I saw a freaking real world that looked as if it was hell!”

“Calm down Albert, please. Why are you acting like that? You know our mission is incredibly important for our country’s liberty and when we discuss crucial details of our operation you start this performance about events that you experienced a great time ago. Fine! If you want us to remain slaves in our own state, keep it up! Our dream about independence will wait one more decade.”

“Matthew, you say I’m seeking to dramatize but wars and revolutions shouldn’t be romanticized. People perish and lose their loved ones at this boiling pot of sorrow called war. And you want to lead these people to face certain death?”

“If death is the freedom. I’m ready to face it. I don’t want to live in fear every day of my life. I’m sick and tired of being afraid of civil guardians under my windows. I want my children to be free. The freedom is sweeter than any cake that these castle ghouls taste daily. I just... just want to feel safe and be proud that I’m a part of this nation! Is it a sin?!”

Matthew Elssworth slouched, and his eyes filled with tears, though he hurried to wipe his eyes with a sleeve of his long shirt that was sky-blue. Albert Bryden. Veteran of war. Looked at his younger mate with regret. However. Mr. Bryden didn’t want to give up his words about catastrophic consequences of war. He suffered so much that he didn't wish his dearest people to know about hell.

The dim candlelight made Matt Elssworth look morbid. Every quarrel disempowered him. His body was weak, but his strong spirit for changes was powerful, that was the thing that Albert respected in him.

“I... well... I overreacted. Albert. I understand your fear of war. You experienced such terrible things... but don't misunderstand me. I’m ready to fight for you. For our future, for our loved ones. I’m not a coward. If nobody wants to start revolution. I’ll start it. I’ll start it, so a few decades later our descendants could freely dispose of their destiny.”

“I’ll stand by you no matter what. Matt. We’ll go through this hell together and survive.”

“Do you promise?”

“I promise.”

The first rays of sun got through the windows of the tiny room. That was Albert’s last war.