#raiwrite

It seemed that out of the battle I escaped... through granites which Titanic wars had groined.

Mark stumbled down the ladder into a dark and dusty tunnel. Vaguely the lights of the lantern placed between the bodies of the soldiers on the floor illuminated the hall. Soldiers laid still on the edges of the tunnel, lost in thought or no longer breathing. Unnoticed to him, the different colored uniforms that the soldiers wore.

Then, as I probed them, one sprang up, and stared with piteous recognition in fixed eyes

Mark shook the soldiers, hoping to ask where he was and where the others were. Shaking one or two, a different soldier sprang up and stared at him. The unknown soldier stared into Mark's eyes, to which he stared back. The soldier's eyes frantically gazed at Mark, examining him from top to bottom. Misconstruing the unknown soldier's gaze, Mark gently holds the young man and tells him there is nothing to fear in the dark and desolate tunnel. The soldier smiles at Mark.

"Strange, friend," I said, "here is no cause to mourn"

He shakes his head, "of course, there is nothing to be afraid of here," he says, "the battle is long behind us, and whatever had been between us is no longer here," he finished. At this remark, Mark realizes what had been strange of all the men in the tunnel. Their different uniforms, to which Mark initially thought was due to their different platoons, was instead due to their different countries. With a start, Mark only began to inch away from the soldier in front of him before he is held back.

"None," said the other, "save the undone years, the hopelessness. Whatever hope is yours, was my life also;

"Why are you so afraid? Didn't I say whatever has happened is to be left in that world?" The soldier says again. "What do you mean? I don't understand, how are we able to meet here?" Mark comes on to the soldier with a barrage of questions. Around them, the soldiers are unstirred, all restless in their inability to sleep. The soldier stares deep into Mark's eyes. "You still don't understand. How about we sit first?" he offers. When Mark makes no moves to sit, the soldier offers his hand as an introduction. "My name is Renjun," he says, offering his hand. Taking it, Mark is immediately brought back to his days on the surface.

I went hunting wild After the wildest beauty in the world.... For by my glee might many men have laughed, And of my weeping something has been left,

Mark is 17, just two years below serving age when he lies to the recruitment office and enlists in the military. They smile and take his lie, and in Mark's glory-blinded eyes he does not see the way their smiles do not match his eyes. Mark's blinded eyes do not see the way his parents wish him well as he leaves the town he grew up in for the frontlines. How they know deep inside that they were sending their child to slaughter and to be slaughtered at the hands of other young men who are blinded all the same.

Mark is 18 and a half, just freshly into the military and he's already known of things his schoolmates would have never dreamed of. His teenage years seem way behind him, the weight of surviving on his soldiers. There was friendship in the war, accidental meetings on the battlefields- as well as goodbyes. Laughter had been shared and tears had been split, in the midst of battle where death was absurd and life absurder.

Which must die now.

Mark is freshly 19 when, in the trenches, he falls victim to the gas bomb. In the green mist, he loses himself, writhing in pain and anguish until which he falls down a hole. And then he meets the other soldiers.

"Am I..." Mark's lips tremble. It is not even a question, simply a statement that needs confirmation. Renjun nods, and Mark slumps down, finally seated next to him.

To miss the march of this retreating world

Renjun does nothing to silence nor stop Mark's sobs. He offers no sympathy or pity, only the presence of someone who has experienced everything Mark had. "I had so much to do... I can't even say goodbye," Mark mumbles through his sobs. "What will happen to me?" Mark asks Renjun, finally looking, truly looking, into Renjun's face. There is a flicker of recognition. The younger boy's honey brown hair and hazel eyes.

I am the enemy you killed, my friend. I knew you in this dark; for so you frowned Yesterday through me as you jabbed and killed

"Have you finally recognized me?" Renjun asks Mark. Mark nods silently, eyes strained to Renjun. "Yes, but why..." Mark begins to ask, unsure of how to question Renjun's treatment of Mark. Enemy soldiers met in death, one murdered by the other. "When you...killed...me," Renjun began, still not completely accepting his death, "I saw you frown and hesitate." He says, "for you, that may have been yesterday, but I've been here longer than you think, and I was able to make sense of our life of soldiers," Renjun says. Mark stares at him, inquiring to understand more. "We are but pawns to our respective governments. Told sweet lies that tell us of the glory and honor of war. Nothing but young children forced to slaughter and grow up beyond our years." It is quiet in the dimly lit tunnel, save for the groans and mutters of the men around the two. "What to do now?" Mark asks, his eyes beginning to droop. His head falls to the side, landing on Renjun's shoulder. Renjun's eyes began to droop as well, as not long after he begins to sink towards Mark.

Let us sleep now...