When War Rages On: We Remember

Onety One of Nocembuary -

My dearest, Hally, the war rages on. The casualties continue to climb, and I pray every day that you are not among them. My goodest friend, Timothy, fell today. He is not dead yet, but the infection has festered and has already begun to spread to others. Our friends and family, all those who have fought alongside us, look to us now to hold the line.

The enemy's attacks grow ever closer to our base camp; we are all that is left between us and humiliation of the next generation. I fear that if this conflict continues much longer and the enemy's troops press much farther into the south, our supply lines will falter, and we will go hungry, and we will not have the strength wherewithal to win--to survive. I fear, my dearest Hayle, I will never be able to see you again. Like ever.

Please, give my love to our child. I know the risk you take, receiving these letters, but I am certain that if I were not able to send these letters, I would surely go mad. I cannot ensure that my victory here will guarantee our safety, but it is the only way to maintain our lands, our liberties, and our lives.

Hallee, please, keep yourself safe for not only my sake, but for our child's as well.

Your love,

Samy J. Laque

Twoty Twoth of Nocembury -

Samule, I received your letter and pray that you might continue to hold strong. Whatever may happen next, may it be done in the watchful eyes of our gods. I know there are many who scorn them and wish they might turn their gaze from us, to allow us the liberty to finish this war in whichever way we pleasse, but I still hold faith in my heart that they do have our best interests at heart. I have seen how well they care for out child, Beubel, when we are required to be elsewhere, communing with our ancestors and resting in preparation for the next day. They do care, my sweet.

Maintaint the faith, my love.Maintain it and reap the sweet rewards that they proffer those who follow their laws and rules.

Forever and faithfully yours,

Hayley M. Goodland

Threety Threeth of Nocemurby -

Heyle. The war has taken a turn for the worse. Our enemy has broken our jungle defenses and call to us from a mighty tower, demanding our surrender lest we lose not only our lands but our lives as well. I have maintained the faith in the gods for all my life, but as the fear of death and defeat linger in the air, I feel their presence wane, their attention shift to other things. The Watchful Eyes, indeed. They watchwhatever they must so they may turn a blind eye when our enemies, who look down upon us from their lofty Babel, launch their cannons from on high.

I hope that I might get this final letter out before we are overtaken by the hordes of and slaughtered as fish, swimming helplessly in a small barrel. May the gods, if they do not watch over us, at least watch over you, my dear, sweet Halli.

Please accept my regards and my love.

Yours always,

Samy J. Laque

Fourty Fourth of Necembary -

Samule, I received note of your passing. I know there is no point of this letter except for my own closure. I do not feel happy. I do not feel joy. I hear the bells toll in our victory, but they ring hollow. Was the linking of our hearts worth my country? The casualties? Who is to know byt the great gods of the bell themselves. They watched. They watched over you as you died. Where is their mercy? Do they laugh as we reap our own destruction? Or do they sorrow for their own weakness? We had believed them benevolent. We had believed them true. They are fickle, always wandering this way or that, never listening to their own laws or codes.

While they do not fully abandon us, they do watch as we play our 'games' and chase each other from one camp to the next, destroying ourselves with reckless abandon.

War is such a terrible madness, my love. It plagues us. We hurt and return the hurt to others in an endless cycle. Nay. Madness is not the word as it holds too little hurt. Anguish. Insanity. Some mix of the two. We continue this cycle again and again, watching as we fight and are called back by the great bells, only to learn and fight again another day. When will this cycle end? Perhaps only when we graduate from this life into the realms beyond will we lose this insatiable lust for war and destruction.

Perhaps, my dearest Samell, it is not that we have enemies to fight, but perhaps we are our own enemies. We are the ones who perpetuate this cycle. We are the ones who reach for the ammunition when the bells scream for us to enter the field. Could we learn, instead, to uncover love and care? Could we simply remember the days at home and pretend that they have returned? Where we cook and clean and perform the mundane, simple tasks of holding parties for an imaginary tea with our friends. Must we always fight? I pray that some day, we may find a better way to resolve our differences.

I am, however, nearing the end of my own story. I write these on the eve of another attack. Tomorrow, I do not know what will come, but I do know that I will face it with dignity and care as your memory guides me to be more, do more, even if it might be considered rash. It seems I may see you sooner than I had thought, reunited in your warm, comforting embrace.

Ever yours,

Hayley M. Goodland

These letters brought to you by the Mountain Woods Elementary School Historical Society for Playground Games.