You will die like all men that came before you. They shifted in their stance, eyeing the door, and then re-focused when they remembered it was locked. For what? He cleared his throat. Progress. For who? They asked. Don’t ask stupid questions. Their breath fell as their spine straightened. Shouldn’t it be my right to know why I am giving my life for the sake of others? Us all, he answered. Everyone? Everyone, he repeated. And why? Another question. Another answer. For the time being, they knew what they were worth. I will reply with a question of my own then. Fine, they answered. Fine, what does every seed require? He asked. Sun and water, of course. Are you sure of that? I am sure of that. Why? Because I’ve seen it my entire life. A wave of memories came over them, but they ignored each one. You are young, and yet you think you have seen everything. You are old, and you think just because you have seen everything, you believe you know how everything works. They felt proud of that. And soil, young one, for all to walk upon you after that. And if they walk into the future without morality, rules, or creeds, I'm afraid I must disagree. They asked. Another question. One more answer. Then, he answered, you will see that life comes down to nothing but a series of successes and tragedies. Both paused. So, what can one do but carry on, hope, and fight for a better tomorrow, embracing the infinite definitions of one’s sacrifice for a greater good rather than resisting it? Because there is a line, we cross it daily to get where we need to go.
What happens when we refuse?
"You" is one of many flash fiction pieces in my upcoming release, "The IIIitchell Collection," an ensemble of poetry, art, and fiction. I hope to write and create daily on t2, finding my niche via territories soon.