Prologue for a book about war.

Prologue

There was a space with no place, a present that did not contain time, a field that could not be measured by length or width, an instant that could not be counted by minutes or seconds. It is really hard to explain such thing. It is impossible to explain something that could only be a product of a wild imagination combined with a broken heart. One might think that this story is impossible, inconcievable, even. But it happened, and it happened to us all. Stay with me for a while, I will at least attempt to describe it properly. As properly as possible.

So let's start with the date, the time. What time was it when it started? How long has it been since then? Will there ever be a time in which it stops? And when it does what will happen to the world? What place will the world be after it stops? Place. No, not yet. Forgive me. Place comes after time. So let's go back to time. Think about time, our perception of it. Time. Days, months, years, hours and so on. What do you think of time? What would you do if it suddenly stoped?

It is challenging to measure time when you relive the same day, every day, for the largest part of your life.That's normal, that's a routine, that's life. Most people waste their lives away in what feels like a single dull, day. There is no shame in that, that's the way things are and always were. People have to work and clean and eat and keep up with their relationships. So it's okay. So far so good.

But in this story, there is no time. Time and existence are contained in a single endless day, a single endless momment. This is the beginning of an Era. A foredoomed era where everything is decietfully the same, at all times and at all places. An era with no dates or hours.An era with no time and place.

All I can tell with certainty is that it was around spring. That's the only way to measure time nowadays. Only the seasons change, EVERYTHING else is always the same.

So time: around spring

So it was spring and the trees blossomed and the streets and cars were covered in pollen. It was around spring and the sun was bright shinning uppon the worlds darkest hour.

Now the place. This hollow field, this valley of dying stars. The place was nothing more but a waste land that was once briefly touched by destiny. Once. At an uknown time. It could have been spring.

The place could only be accounted for lousy moments, drunken thoughts and intense feelings. It was the place that attracted all the wicked while the pure would rest in peace in their beds, blessed never to set foot in here.

So the place: The place that attracted all the wicked. (the valey of dying stars T.S. Elliot)

And here is what really matters in this story. The wicked. Think of them as you want. It is your perception of this word that will form your opinion on this book.

The wicked.

I know you are supposed to start a story with the beginning of everything. But I personally like to read the ending first. So I will do something anorthodox for a writer and I will start with the end.

1. The End

They were the wicked for quite a while now. It had been such long time and place and minutes and lengths and wastelands and countless words and thoughts and moments and intense feelings since Conolyn first set her foot in here.

Nothing surprised her anymore. Now that the future was there, nothing touched her, all the glory and nobility this world had seen were virtues of a different time, a different world. A world that no longer existed. All Conolyn felt that day was shame. Shame for the ones she lost and for the ones she would lose.

That's how their world made a soldier out of a child.

At that very night of revelation, all the things she once held dearly became a burden to her. She looked at Eon and all she felt was a weight in her heart.

Ten years ago she was only a a pair of eyes away from leaving it all behind. Would it be better? To have a swift and young death? Too young. Would it be more poetic than dying from a plague or an atomic bomb. It didn't really matter now, ten years ago she was only a pair of eyes away from death. For better or for worse she had met his. And they were remarkable.

They had this rare shine in them, a kind of suppressed beauty that only someone as wicked as her could comprehend. A beauty deliberately hidden from the world. A beauty that could not be seen or touched. A beauty that was anything but pure.

She was certain from the beginning, even if she was very young. She was certain from the first momment she looked into those eyes: No one would ever see the greatness in them as hard as they looked. No one but her.

Never in her life had she seen a boy that looked so resistant to pain. It was as if all the pain and hatred in the world would not suffice to bend his spirit, which wasn't only respectable but also peculiar because of his fragile looks. He was young but his bumpy face looked weathered. He had scars and the smile of a child. With only a glimpse of an eye, Conolyn saw the bravery of a hundred men.

She saw all that and many more. She saw in him what she saw in each and everyone of her fellow men. The perfect soul to collect at any cost, the most dedicated and bright. The purest of the Wicked.

Strangely there was something more into it that she couldn't yet see. She had spent hours, the days that followed, looking deeply into her past. Looking back at every thing she ever witnessed, every image she had seen since she was born, every noise, every little spike of sound she ever heard. She stayed up all morning recalling. And yet his eyes were the only thing she couldn't make total sense of.

No one had ever manged to look at her that way. She observed him carefully for a moment trying not to get caught and intrigue a collector's curiosity. At that moment she felt sadness for his presence there. They would collect him too, sooner or later. They just waited for the right moment to break him, the precious time that he would foolishly abandon everything out of rage and fear and realization as all of them did. "Besides the world breaks everyone, impartially in the end".

Now the time had come. This boy was now a man. She stood beside him and he immediately wrapped his arms around her and held her tight. Eon always hugged her like a child does. With all his strength. But this time there was something more into it. He huged her, as if it was the last time.

“What's on your mind?” he asked her trying to keep a hint of playfulness in his somber expression. They both smiled with the effort.

It was always peculiar when he asked her that. Eon always knew what was on her mind. The only reason he would ask “What's on your mind?” was to discuss something that was on both their minds at the same time. Usually it wasn't needed. Discussion wasn't needed. A glance or a gesture were more than enough for them.

“I'm thinking about the day we met.” he nodded.

“At least we were lucky at one thing.”

“A pretty important one too”

“Essential, I ll say.”

They chocked a laugh and looked into each others eyes for a while as they used to when they were children.

“Promise me we ll die together if it comes to it.” Conolyn asked him with a sudden desperation and tears filled the corners of her eyes. He kissed them softly and then kissed her mouth. She felt the salty tears on the tip of her tongue.

“There never was another way. If you die I have nothing. If you die I am dead. Our lives are codependent and always were even before we met.”

“Are you afraid?”

“Not just yet. Worried, but not afraid”

“Same” Conolyn replied and they stood there drinking tea and waiting for it to happen.

Conolyn couldn't bare the thought of losing him. She would have to watch the shine in his eyes fade away, as she did for many others, brave men and women, kneeling before the horror of this war. Some called it duty and some referred to it as a burden. Regardless the truth remained the same for everyone no matter how they viewed it. There was no hope for them. No hope for the wicked.

They were all trained for a battle that was foreseen as lost, prepared to die in the name of a distant future, so others could live. Like it always happens in every war. The few that would survive would be the worst of them and they would live the rest of their lives in guilt and grief like true heroes do.

For war can not be won by man ship, war is a defeat for everyone since there is no glory in killing and no victory in dying like a dog in the mud. War was inevitable, almost natural, its purpose was to preserve a balance that would be so easily lost again. And every few generations, war would come back again to take the worthy and the innocent as a sacrifice to a cruel God so the human race may live till the very end of all existence.

That was the truth they ve been taught, a truth that few knew and even fewer admitted. After all these years Conolyn felt like it was so obvious to the naked eye, she had forgotten that once she was as ignorant and hopeful as any child is.

Now she knew that this earth could be nothing but hell since opportunities were given by chance and not by value, every virtue such as love, intelligence, morality and fortitude was truly a curse, burdened with duty.

“It's happening” Alex yelled at them from a distance interupting her train of thought. They turned on the radio and the web.

They heard the war declaration in the dim light, near the fire, holding their breath. They listened to the truth again as they transmitted it, the same truth that everyone in the world were hearing at the same time, terrifieded and desperate in their homes.

They didn't cry or hug. They stood there together but apart, motionless and speechless and all they knew was that they were good fighters, trained fairly and that every step they took until now was made for them to reach this point, to listen to the declaration, to knowingly transmit it themselves throught the masses, to be ready. And they couldn't have been more ready in every technical aspect.

They were taught that they could die for any cause instructed since they had nothing left to lose. But standing there after the radio went silent, no one spoke a word, the only sound in this crowded space was the one of eachother breathing. They fell in love with it as they listened. Their brothers' and sisters' existance contained in a whisper..

At that insnstant they felt a deep love for one another, unlike any other feeling they had known, almost as if it wasn't human. They were all touched by a divinity as they breathed their remaining air of freedom. Never had they felt a thing so strange and absolute before. In that state they loved and forgave all the men that would die in each side and they drunk together all night, in the name of their unfortunate fate, looking down at the ground they were destined to meet, saying nothing. It was the first time they had something to lose. It was the first time that the wicked feared death.