Event #17 - Length: 200-250 words - Prompt: Genesis 36:7
Their possessions were too great for them to remain together; the land where they were staying could not support them both because of their livestock.
"Marbled Victory"
By WEGoss2
The battle remembered, Ovid.
I played with tigers like Augustus if Caesar had tigers.
A battlefield etched deep in
the earth, surrounded by a circle of combatants. Every eye was on victory and
the spoils. The fight was always for keeps and challenges were thrown across
the field. Battle cries rose and fell. Eventually knuckles and knees carried evidence
of the fight. The advantage changed courses, each side changing, gaining and
loosing.
The fallen taken away as
future servants and soldiers.
The generals’ bodies always showed
true witness to the nuances of battle. Every warrior scarred their knuckles for victory. Volley upon volley was sent onto the field. Explosions witnessed in
swirls of glass. Peaceful round coolness shattered by the aggressor. It was
always a thing of enormous beauty contrasted against the starkness of the dirty
dirt.
In time, the pearls were
won. The devil’s eye vanquished. The field once littered with casualties of
bone and glass would be picked clean. In memory, fingers honored the fallen,
the captured, and the victims of the battle.
Marbles were soldiers. But,
these are things of memory.
Now, the world is held in
techno-prisons. The field is blown clean. But to those who remember, the circle
still calls in a distant voice of a once lived youth. Childhoods lived in a
playground ring drawn in amateur and once frequented by Caesar.
Every honorable warrior
knows that when you loose all your marbles, you must move on.
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