Mourning Poppies

Ever since the war ended, I've been thoughtful. Not that I felt lucky living in a peaceful country once again, with the friendly neighbors warmly greeting me from their windows. What I meant does not touch my feelings or the will to become more of a saint to make me feel better about myself, to make me forget about the dreadful past. This is all about the world, the whole world.

"Cooper, I'm overthinking again." I was leaning on the window of the living room, kneeling on the couch. The sun shone and covered my face, revealing the warm brown nut eyes under my forehead.

The evening sky was young, like really young. The afternoon has come to an end, and a few birds sang boldly to the whole village, ending their last tweet with a quiet interval of two synchronized notes. The trees were scattered around the garden, and just behind the wall was a field that I couldn't see from here. A dozen cows were there, I knew it because my step-father knows the farmer there, he would buy milk from his stands and come back with a box of it. What I also knew was that there was another field at the corner of the road full of growing strawberries called Red Sparrows. What amazes me the most is that the field was untouched during the war, yet the village after the Red Sparrows has been completely razed off the land, the ruins of houses, shops, and the little pebbles on the road leaving the village were all a sad sight.

"Well, go on then

-Go on with what? Overthinking?" He looked at me smiling, and we laughed at each other. Cooper regained himself and continued.

"Take a break," Cooper said, with his usual appeased tone, "Take a walk or some'

-I guess I can

-Of course," I went to the doorstep, put on my sandals, and headed outside to let my thoughts fly in the wild. I stepped out into the sunshine, took a look at our front's poppies. They were still nice and pretty, looking for the sweet breeze's direction. But I could still feel the gloomy shadows that they cast on the healthy grass: little but meaningful.

I began walking. Where? I'm uncertain, I was just wondering the path towards Red Sparrows. I could smell the odor of the freshly baked bread from Charlie's workshop. I passed the florist and the local well. The quiet chatter of the townspeople was heard from behind me. I've reached the field.

"The Sun's set," said a voice. I turned my heels to find a man; I could tell that he was a framer by his clothes and the carriage he pulled.

"I'm just strolling," I replied to him. Indeed, the sun could only cast an arc from its body over the trees in the distance. I had not seen the time running.

"Don't go too far from home," he advised me, "You don't look like you're from here, do you?

-I live here, though we just moved in a month ago." He smiled as he heard me say that I wasn't local, rather a familiar one. He turned his gaze to the lovely strawberries beside the pathway. He walked towards it, dropped his carriage behind him, and stared and the reddish crowd.

"They are mine, wanna take and bite?" He proposed that I pack a few, it's quite a nice offer, but... "I didn't bring any money with me

-You didn't have to. He took a wheat-braided basket from his carriage and handed it over to me. I took it and thanked him. He seemed happy that somebody held his strawberry company, as if there hadn't been anybody doing so until now. He took back his carriage and waved at me as he left, heading to another path across the field. Ambling and disappearing behind the tall grass. I felt serene, I had something appeasing to do while preventing myself from overthinking things. I walked into the field, where there were vertical sections, in order for people to pick the strawberries from the field. I started by picking one of them, which was surprisingly big and strong. It was ripped, but strong, as if it held the secret of this place. I finally took a bite, and I couldn't have been so washed away from everything in the universe.

And that's how I stopped overthinking.

Everything made more sense now: the breeze, the current night sky, and my soul were reposeful. Nicely sleeping in between life.

I picked what could fill this basket. I did not fill the basket in a rush, what for? I took my time, took a walk into the Red Sparrows, and helped myself with the strawberries. They were all generous in size and nicely taken care of. Red like love. Piercing love.

"Miss, MISS!"

It was the farmer; he came back. With the same clothes, the same carriage, but the face... Full of dread, full of sweat, full of blood. And I heard this shrill sound from above me, like something was falling above me. I was too scared to look up, too scared to know that I was about to die. My heart twisted so harshly that at this point, I just couldn't move. And before I knew, a headache came, bringing with it past thoughts that do not belong here. I cried, and tears fell from my eyes. I released the basket from my right hand, letting the strawberries roll on the ground sorrowfully. What if I will never see Cooper again? Why would such a thing happen? Will this war finally come to an end? What will become of this field of strawberries? What will become of me?

Sadly, I can't tell you. It took a flying bomb from a military plane to take my life away from me. I was naive to think that this war would end. It's not your fault, it's not Cooper's fault, it's not the farmer's fault, and neither is it my fault. This world is just too cruel. People are dying, like this, in such a beautiful place. And I really thought that God created us in his image. This world must not be created by God, is it? This Earth is ugly, really ugly. I fear I'm still scared. People are meant to die peacefully, with a purpose to be rather. Goodbye, dear reader, goodbye Cooper, goodbye dear villagers, goodbye Red Sparrows, and goodbye mourning flowers.