His Medal
It was summer in the city of Milwaukee, as Dad drove me and my six years old sister to Grandpa James' house to celebrate his birthday. Mom couldn't come along because of several meetings she had to attend at her company.
The trip from Milwaukee to Dever was a road trip that took six hours with three stops and each stop was a fun time to shop and stretch our legs. Traveling with dad was exciting, as we got to sing aloud without mum's restrictions. Soon, we arrived at Grandpa James' old mansion, and we were welcomed by Grandpa Butler and his two young maids. Grandpa's old mansion had twelve rooms, a big swimming pool with a basketball court, and a small ranch. Each time, I mentioned to Grandpa about renovating his house or selling it, he either frowned at it or told me about the house's history. But this time he decided to renovate the house, after twenty-three years of it being built. Well, it was for his birthday celebration and that would be two days after our arrival.
That afternoon of our arrival, my sister and I visited Grandpa James' small ranch, as we rode on his favorite horse, Ella. She was always kept clean and away from other horses, sometimes I felt how bored she might be, but Grandpa made sure she was giving the best treatment. Our arrival was welcomed with lots of food and fun activities. I was so excited that I had a toothache. At night, Dad carried me and my sister to our room before he locked the door. Grandpa James came in to give us a goodnight kiss, but my little sister won't let him go without a bedtime story.
"Grandpa, tell us a story before you go. Please…" she pleaded
"Oh, Mira maybe next time." He chuckled.
"No no no… Grandpa just one."
"Okay, kids. I'll tell you a story about an angel in a magical land."
"Oh! Yes, Grandpa." Mira said with a smile on her face.
"No, Grandpa. Tell us another story. What about the story of the necklace on your neck, which you never take off. " I said.
"Hmmm… interesting one Malachi. Sure, I'll tell you the story. Hope you won't sleep soon. " he smiled as he patted my hair.
"No, Grandpa. We won't fall asleep." We both said with a curious look.
"Okay, listen."
A long time ago, war was to prove how strong your country was and how ready you are to die for your country if you are man enough to fight. Or to go to the war front. A place of many death sentences. During the 1800s, my country England was at war. A war that will reshape Britain, putting it in is the rightful place. But it cost us many lives.
As a young man, I wanted to fight for my country, but my father. The Duke of Oxford, won't approve that. He would say, "what gain is to fight for your country and lose your soul by just a bullet?" I always asked him why? And he never gave me an answer, but still, I understood the death of my mother changed everything about him. He lost the only world he had and now he promised to keep me out of the violence acts of men, because he had once experience the pain of war as a trained high ranked soldier in the British Army. And now, all that doesn't matter to him anymore.
Each time i brought the topic up of joining the Army, he would disapprove and leave me this advice.
"War is not for boys, it's for men that are ready to lose everything."
I tried all my possible best to get his blessing in joining the British Army but he refused, so I did something that gave him a second thought, that was saving Lord Cain from being assassinated. He gave me his blessings under one condition that I would only go for the training and refuse deployment to the war front. Yes, I accepted, but I had other plans.
After my training, I was promoted to lieutenant and it was time for my deployment, but I couldn't go because all eyes were on me, so I switched positions with a recruit, Cooper Martin. I gave him a letter to give to my father and a passcode "I'm Lancelot."
The news broke my father's heart that I was deployed to the war front. All I ever wanted was to prove to him that I could protect myself, I didn't mean to bring pain to him. But unknown to me all the stories of war were true, and now father's warnings were all echoing in my head. The only way for me to get through this was to survive.
Just when the team stepped their feet at the war camp. I and six soldiers were selected to retrieve intel from a British spy, who got stuck at the war field, a place of death. It was a night mission. As we moved that night, like a snake ready to capture its prey, the silent atmosphere with the shitty smell of dead bodies. "Maintain the silent boys." The captain ordered, but it was broken. One of the soldier's helmets fell on metal and it alerted our opponents, as they rain fire on us, while we hide from their bullets. There I was crying, praying, as I was shaking at the sounds of the gunfire. The true nature of war was being played right before me. Now, I wish I had listened to my father.
Suddenly, I heard a voice.
"Hey boy! Over here."
In shock, I raised my gun at him, and I notified others.
"Wait, please. I am a British spy and I have to give this intel to the General." He said in pain. He was badly injured.
"Cooper Martin, help secure the asset to the base, as we cover you." The captain ordered.
I paused, stared at the injured man, and looked at the distance to the camp. "Oh, Damn," I said to myself.
Slowly, I crawled towards him and carried him on my shoulder, running like I was chased by zombies. It caught the attention of both sides, as my opponents started throwing bombs at us, I kept running, neglecting the sounds of those bombs.
Grandpa started displaying how he jumped.
"But for how long?" Soon, I was closing in to the camp, as a bomb hit us at the back, pushing us hard over the gate of the camp, as I landed on a van with the spy. I saved him, saved my country with that intel and the team came back alive.
"Wow, Grandpa you're a hero!!" I shouted.
"Yes, son. And that's my medal. But I learned a lesson. Always listen to other people advice and think before taking any action. Goodnight kids." He kissed us on our foreheads.
Well, war is ugly and not sure what that grandpa was trying to prove to the children with that story. It certainly isn't a bed time story for a child (with the almost detailed murdering and genocide), and the moral of it if any wasn't clear to me.
"Think before taking anyone."?
Its was mistake, i meant think before taking any action. I have edited it. He told the children a story of how he got the necklace medal.
Oh, I get that he did. But the thing is, even when grandpas feel like telling very young children such traumatizing stories for whatever reason in their mind, they usually avoid all the killings and there would be a moral for the kids. Not praised for heroism. In that story, he goes against his dad's advice and wish, and is praised for it, he describe genocides, killings and a mutilated man to 6 years old kid as a bed time story.
I'm sorry if I'm a bit confused, but I'm just trying to justify and make sense of such attitude of a grand parent to tell young kids such pointless killings as a bedtime story.
He regretted his actions in the story. Okay, i see your point @yaziris 💯. Thanks for the reviews and moral corrections. ✌
Hi @ubani1. As always, thanks for posting in The Ink Well. As you know, we are making every effort to make sure our content is non-violent here in our community. While we mute the very bloody stories, we really prefer not to do that. And we simply ask our writers not to include violent acts. We won't curate stories that mention people being gunned down or brutalized. Please read our article about violence and brutality so you fully understand our stance on this.
As @yaziris was saying, these are also not things a grandfather would tell his children in a bedtime story.
Here are the lines that we would ask you to edit, if you want The Ink Well to curate your story:
Thank you.
Okay. I'll make sure it's been edited.
I have edited my story now.
Always listen to other people's advice, especially your parents.
This is really great.
You did well with your edits, @ubani1! Thank you.
The grandpa telling his inspiring story to his grandchildren is meaningful. They will remember long after he's gone that he was a person of strength, integrity and valor.
Thank you also for supporting other writers in the community by reading and commenting on their stories. This helps our community to be strong and engaged.
Thank you so much. Indeed he is a man of integrity. Thanks for correcting me. I'll keep to the rules.
Hello @ubani1,
I just read your story, after the edits. This is the first time I'm seeing the story and I can't discern any deficits. Whatever it is that you changed, the story reads great the way it is.
Let me say how much we appreciate your positive presence in the Ink Well community. Your writing has become really good. The arc here is strong.
About the violence: try to understand how hard it is for us to parse which violent scenes are acceptable and which are not. Try to understand that we have to be consistent, as much as possible in challenging violent content, or it gets out of hand.
Sometimes an author may feel a story needs violence in order to be effective. That is rarely true. Often our imagination and skill can suggest horror without actually describing it. However, if ever you feel that a story absolutely must contain a violent scene, then use your good judgement please and don't publish that story here, in the Ink Well. There may be nothing wrong with the story. We just don't want graphic violence in our community.
Finally, thank you for your cooperation. Thank you for politely conforming to our community requirements. I personally have enjoyed reading the stories you publish here. I look forward to reading many more.
Regards,
AG
Thank you so much for your kind comments. Am sure in my next posts, they wont be violence. Sometimes i just get lost in writing, and think some juice like that should be added, forgetting about the rules. I'll be mindful of the rules henceforth, and avoid @inkwell punishment 😔