A.N.: A quick Memorial Day special that I thought of the top of my head, so it’s not edited, sorry. Not really apart of the “final” chapters I was going for, but something that, I thought needed to be written. Though you won’t be missing out if you don’t read this.
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I continued to pace, talking as I did. Spike writing down each word as quickly as I could say them. It was about maybe a week and few days into trying to write this book for the Princesses. Spike and I have become more or less writing partners in effort to get the memories of past life onto the pages. Though my life wasn’t the most exciting piece of work, but we were barely out of high school memories by the five-day mark and we were already working on another fairly large stack of paper. Pausing to let the dragon’s hand rest for a moment before continuing. Spewing out anything and everything that came to mind was quite therapeutic. All the repressed memories I could think of: first love, that bad math class, spilling yogurt all over my shorts during lunch. Anything that I thought that was remotely beneficial to learning about human behavior I mentioned and elaborated on for pages on end. Looking back at history, my history, my first life, with all the knowledge experience I had now. I had a fit of laughter of thinking of twenty new ways to cheat on that math exam I had failed without being caught.
By this time in the writing, we finally arrived at my first day of basic training. I had to keep myself from laughing when I remembered the drill sergeants basically spitting as they yelled their lungs out. Yet, I could almost cringe at the thought of being PT’d into the ground. Shaved head and a new identity, I realized how almost easy it seemed now. I remembered the joy I had when I first dissembled and reassembled my rifle about a minute. Only to have the drill sergeant laugh and then yell at me for forgetting the firing pin. I couldn’t win them, apparently. Sure, shooting at the range, throwing a few frags, and kicking in a few days every now and then did relieve a lot the tension between the Drills and us as E1s. Though everything the Sergeants did teach eventually saved my life at least once or twice. I recall a proper door breach scaring the insurgent on the other side. Startled as he was, he was unable to pick up his weapon in time and we were able to capture him. In the middle of a firefight, for some reason I heard my drill sergeant’s voice to stop and change mags before I jammed my weapon. Changed mags and after the fight looked at the first mag and found a nice bullet hole in it. The remaining shrapnel in the mag would have done wonders to the internals of the weapons.
I kept talking on and on about the small things I could remember. Laughing over a cold coke at one friend’s shenanigans, while offering support at another’s “Dear John” letter. Carrying a friend over your shoulder as we walked back to base after a short weekend leave. It was those family-like memories that made me smile, but at the same time made me miss it.
Seeing the dragon yawn, I realized in my efforts to talk about anything and everything had taken its toll on him. “Spike, I think we can call it for tonight. Thanks for listening and writing. I’ll get Twi to help me move these papers to the other room in a second.”
“I’m not tired, honest,” the dragon protested, but another yawn a second later was his undoing.
“Don’t lie to me,” I smiled as I walked towards to the where he was behind the desk. “Besides, the last paragraph looks bit like chicken scratch, we’ll have to go over it again in the morning.”
“I still got a few minutes left in me,” again the dragon objected. “You were just getting to the good part anyways.”
“You’d be asleep on the paper before I even metaphorically fired a shot in the sandbox. Come on,” pulling him away from the desk and putting him onto my back. “It’s late, you need your sleep anyways.”
The dragon made a muffled complaint, but finally consented. Trotting up the stairs and to his bed, he barely even touched the pillow before he was out. I chuckled lightly at being right yet again and almost abusing the dragon as much as Twilight did. Though she was stuck editing the large stack of papers my pacing rants made. Heading back down the stairs, I walked to the side room where Twilight was editing.
Knocking twice then entering, I saw the unicorn at work. Ink splotches covered parts of her face, her mane was up in a bun, and her glasses on, I couldn’t help but think in the back of my mind that for some reason she looked amazingly attractive for some reason.
“Just when you think you know someone,” she commented without looking up from her work. “You get to know them from their memories written on a piece of paper. By the way,” looking up and into my eyes with a slyest of smiles, “About that yogurt incident.”
“You will not believe how embarrassed I was from that incident,” walking to the room and to her side. “I don’t think I showed my face at school for over a week, feigning sickness. I also begged my mom to see if I could attend a different school.” I observed her handy work on this sheet of paper, seeing what was edited. “Though I think I haven’t quite recovered from it.”
The mare laughed, “And you come in here to disturb me to tell me you are still disturbed?”
“Well, not really. Just came in to say hi and see how you’re doing. Also just to say that my pen is now fast asleep.”
“Oh,” Twi’s eyes shifted to the clock hanging, “it is late for him anyways. Where did you get to today?”
“Started on the memories of my first days in the military, basic training and then infantry school. You know, the beginning of the end for me.”
“Toby, don’t be morbid about it,” her gaze shifted back down the page in front of her and continued to edit, “You had your reasons for doing what you, and now you’re here now.”
“Well, I guess you’re right,” I started to walk around to other side, “though, I think I haven’t quite explained my reasons for joining.” A light bulb appeared in my head, and a smile complement the thought. “Would you like to hear an author’s exclusive on this?”
Hearing the quill be set down gently, her expression grew blissful. “Well, of course I would like to hear an actual word or two from the author himself.”
“By our nation’s capital, sits multiple memorials dedicated to men and women who have answered our nation’s call for service. Some in times of global crisis, others times I cannot justify the reasons, but where our nation called for her servicemen and women to go, we went. Now, these memorials are set up to commemorate those who paid a debt that we as people still alive cannot yet even begin to pay back. They are the ones that never came back.” I paused in my pace, gathering my thoughts. “Now, getting around to my point, in my final years of high school, I went to the Memorial Day parade at the capital. Now Memorial Day is a holiday on the fourth Monday in May dedicated specifically to those who made the sacrifice. Though in all actuality, we should be remembering them and their efforts nearly everyday, but not point. I remember talking with a veteran, asked him why he served.” By this time, Twi had left her position from behind the desk and moved slowly to my side. I had not felt the tears beginning to form, but she apparently did. “He looked me straight in the eyes, jabbed a finger into my chest, spoke with the fullest of heart I have ever seen, and he said “Son, serving your country is the greatest honor you be bestowed upon. Sure, the pay ain’t great, the hotel service is lousy, and work environment is downright atrocious, but it makes up for that in the memories you make and the men you serve with. Never in the entire world can men be thrown in worst of situations and still manage to crack a smile.”
I could feel the tears flowing as I look at Twi standing in front of me, her eyes began to well up with tears as well. “I remembering him pointing to the flag, the ole red, white, blue. “You owe a debt that has been paid in blood,” then he pointed to one of the memorials off in the distance, “And you owe it to those who came before you, those who stood when you could not. It’s because of them that you are standing now.” I remember shaking his hand and going to a recruiter within the week, from there, it’s basically all that you know. But I realized something in my time here, my time with you that I am standing because someone had to. Because of one man was able to drag my ass into a helicopter.” The tears were already flowing down now as I sat down, but I met in the mare’s powerful embrace as she wrapped her hooves around me. A small comfort that I took for granted every day.
“Thanks Paul.”