Spirit Brothers

A quick story about two boys growing up in a hateful world. A prose interpretation of the poem "Change" by Letitia Elizabeth Landon

The two boys didn’t know what the future held, and they ran and played their childhood away. On those cold fall evenings and warm summer days they didn’t know they were supposed to be enemies. They were blissfully unaware of all the hate society would tell them they should have.

As tots, they chased butterflies together. Young and carefree, they darted through the woods after their brightly colored prey. Though they were young and of different cultures, they both felt the hunt in their blood. And when they grew tired, the boys, always attached at the hip, would lie by the stream and watch the sun dance across the water

As the two boys grew, they grew together. They learned from each other, and taught each other the skills that their culture lacked. They both sprouted, tall and proud, from the soil of a mixed culture. More cultivated and knowledgeable than others, their futures seemed bright. Soon butterflies became rabbits, and their days of hunting grew lengthier. No longer did they idle by the silver stream. Their days were consumed with hunting, a driving urge the boys felt together. They lived in the moment, simply enjoying one another’s company.

The more they grew, the more the boys were confronted with the future. But in their youthful innocents they thought only of the wonders they would do together. Always together. Never would the boys allow thoughts of separation into their world. They were brothers, in spirit if not in blood, and they would not allow themselves to be torn apart. Together until the end, they would always proclaim. But those proclamations were childish fantasies, and before the boys were even fully grown, society tore them apart: one to the army and one to learn with his people. Their goodbyes were painful, and with breaking hearts and tearful eyes they promised to remember each other. They promised to hold the memories close in their hearts, and look back upon them one day with all the love and care that boyhood friends hold for each other. Though they tried to hide their tears, shamed by their strong emotions, the boys cried more that day than they ever had before and ever would again. They believed it was their last day with their dearest friend. In a way it was, though their souls were tied together, destined for one last meeting.

Although they had been ripped from the once rich soil of their friendship, the boys continued to grow. However, the new soil in which they had been placed was tainted, and a poison began to seep into them. Though they still grew firm and tall, muscled bound and proud of themselves, there was a hidden poison lurking in them. Their hearts were hard. In their new world they were taught to hate. They were told to ignore their cherished memories and see the villainy in the boy they had once loved. Their hearts protested at first, clinging helplessly to their memories, but they knew the only way to survive was to follow orders. Though they were no longer thriving, at least they could survive in this new, bitter soil.

The day on which they at last reconnected was a bright one. The sun was out, the sky was blue, and a gentle warmth permeated the air. It was a summer day not unlike the ones they had played in as children. The day meant nothing, though, to the two boys with the hardened hearts. The boys met during a hunt, in woods not very different from their childhood home. The years of separation could not rob the two of their shared love of the hunt. Recognizing their childhood friend, the two paused, but they soon recoiled. They could no longer see the person they had once loved, but only an embodiment of the things they had been taught to hate. An arrogant soldier, with his loud rifle and destructive behavior, and a savage Indian, with his weak spear and godless beliefs. The boys saw the poison that the other held, but could not look within to see their own tainted, poisoned heart.

Glaring and posturing, the boys exchanged looks shared between only the bitterest of enemies. An outsider would have no idea of the shared past these two had, of the love they once held in their hearts for each other. The only thing an outsider would know is the unrivaled hatred the two now felt for each other.

Words were exchanged. Callous, cold words, saved only for the most hated of enemies. Words meant to strike hard and deep, cutting at the heart of a person they had once cherished. And when they raised their weapons, spear against gun, neither paused to think who had taught them to hate the way they did. Neither thought about the coldness in their hearts and who made it that way. The soldier didn’t think he was aiming to kill his boyhood friend. The Indian didn’t think he was calling for the death of the person he once held dearest. The boys didn’t think how they had ben taught to hate, to kill, the one person they promised to spend forever with.

As the spear whistled through the air and the gunshot rang out, distant echoes of memory ran through the boys’ minds. While blood flowed freely from both boys, matching chest wounds for once matching boys, they thought of the days they had once known together. They remembered the years of fun and love together, of innocent days before they had learned only hate. In their last moments, though their blood still flowed and poisoned the ground for others, they felt their cold hearts warm just a little. And when they both took their last breath, in unison as though one person, they thought of the promise they had once made to each other:

Together until the end.