Thursday, August 17, 2017

For the briefest moment I wondered if I could really pull the trigger, but the moment was fleeting and I shot him where he stood...

Parson Graham, Confederate Ghost...

I was shot on the battlefield, and the moment is frozen in me, a permanent stutter of my heart. The projectile tore through my uniform and embedded itself in my Bible: God chose me at that moment, although for what I still do not understand, but am only thankful...

I approached the offending Union Soldier, and saw the fear in his eyes as I pointed my weapon at him. For the briefest moment I wondered if I could really pull the trigger, but the moment was fleeting and I shot him where he stood...

I expect he is in Heaven now, and if I were to meet him there perhaps we would realize that we were young men in the throes of a battle bigger than us. I wonder if those that killed and are killed today could expect the same commiseration...

I no loner see Nobility in my actions, but I do not also see malice: that, as good as any, is the difference I see in the country today...

I am Parson Graham, Confederate Ghost...


I am Laslo.




No comments:

Post a Comment