Poppies

• Zeana Cole, Grade 10, Nossal High School
• Short Story
• 2022

Finalist in the 'Unleashed 2022' competition

I rise with the setting of the sun, and reach out, as I always do, to touch the last of its shimmering rays; the last of the light; and remember for a moment the life I had before. Then the light fades, and as the darkness creeps across the fields, I turn to greet my comrades. Each night we dance beneath the moon, and we tell great tales; legends of good and evil, of mighty heroes and fearsome villains, and of those who were somewhere in-between. We sing, and we laugh, and we remember joy; but sometimes I begin to remember too much, and I see the ragged clothes of my brothers, the flesh torn apart by fear and hate, the empty eyes and quiet hearts. And then I forget again, and all is well. Sometimes people come to visit us; they cry over the stakes others plunged into the soil long ago and crush our souls beneath their feet. We are tied to this place, and are always able to return, but can never leave. Our eternity is long, and always much the same, but we are free of our pasts, for which we are grateful; who we were before matters not. As morning nears once again, I sense a young child standing nearby. She seems entranced by my soul, crouching down to admire it; she is so innocent; she should not be here. Just as the first light of the sun rises over the horizon, she leans down and pulls me from the ground. As I feel myself begin to fade, I thank her for giving me a glimpse of the bright world above, even if it is only for a moment. She smiles down at me, and though I know she has no idea what she holds in her hands, as she caresses the soft petals of my heart, I find myself smiling back, up at the lone figure in the sea of red.