My dad sat with me on my bed. I was young at the time and didn't fully understand what was going on. He had a neat little tin can in his hand and he poured out green, brown, and grey army men. He told me that I was a brave little soldier, that I could face the adversity of the world. He told me that there was nothing that could hold me back. Yet here I sit, at his bedside, my hand in his hand, broken. My father had left me with a decent amount of wisdom but none of that mattered now. He threw me into the sea of life without a life jacket. With my broken heart, I struggled to swim, I struggled to breathe, I struggled to hope. This is the story of a boy who through the waves, through the crushing pressure of the sea, became victorious through all odds. This is the story of a little boy, lost beyond hope in the infinite turmoil of the sea, never to be found. This little boy is me, Rin, and I am here to tell you a story of the little brave soldier marching across the battlefield of life.
I sat in my bed with my green, brown, and grey army men in my lap. My dad had died last night and left me alone. I couldn't think straight, I couldn't eat, I couldn't sleep. I clutched the cold army man in my hand. This little soldier was broken beyond repair, but something sparked inside me. I looked at the soldier in my little fingers and set him down on the bed. I looked at the picture of my dad near my bedside and firmed my cheeks. I set each of the soldiers up and pretended for them to fire at one another. I knocked down all of the soldiers yelling "Charge!" until only one remained. I sat in my bed, the victorious soldier, the brave soldier, but the lonely soldier.
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I sat in my bed with my green, brown, and grey army men in my lap. My dad had died ten years ago and I was in high school. I was a lonely teen in a world without forgiveness. I was worried about my appearance, I was worried about my weight, I wanted to be like everyone else. I was wounded and the wound seemed to be far from healing. All of a sudden a knock on the door sounded and I saw my new girlfriend standing in the doorway. She looked at my little toy soldiers, my baseball cards, and my old board games with disgust. She scoffed and walked away. I called after her but to no avail. I knocked over the soldiers in anger until only one remained. I looked at my father and then back towards the doorway. "Charge," I said as I headed back after someone I needed.
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I sat in my bed with my green, brown, and grey army men in my lap. My dad had died twenty-two years ago and I was now happily married. The scars of my father had been cut off from the outside for many years, but sadly remained, like a ghost whispering in my head. I sat with my wife on the bed, reminiscing to when I was younger. I looked at my wife and smiled. "Soon we will have a little soldier," I said as I put my hand on her belly. She smiled and I knocked over the army men as I lay next to her, reaching in for a passionate kiss. "Charge..." I whispered as I kissed the woman I loved.
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I sat in my bed with my green, brown, and grey army men in my lap. My dad had died thirty years ago and my son was now seven years old. The scars of my father burned occasionally as I strode to take his place in the family. I looked at my son playing with the army men and looked at the tin box with my father's name on it. I grabbed my son and sat him on my leg. "Those army men are yours if you want them. May they serve you well." I made a fake salute and my son had a bright smile. "Thanks, daddy!" He went back to playing with the toys and yelled, "Charge!"
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I sat in my bed with my green, brown, and grey army men in my lap. My son sat next to me holding my hand. My wife had died last night and the scars that had almost healed burned inside of me. I looked at the picture of my wife and then the tin box, lastly I looked at my son. I hugged him and whispered in his ear, "You will always be my little soldier, and although I may leave you someday, I will always be in your heart." He looked at me sadly and nodded. I took the army man in my hand and stifled a sob, "This is for you, Yumika, my love." I turned towards my son, "Do you want to do the honors?" He smiled at me and raised the army man in the air and yelled, "Charge!"
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I sat in the hospital bed with my green, brown, and grey army men in my lap. My wife had died ten years ago and the scars had lasted with me these last few painful years, but no more. My son and his wife stood at my bedside, my son's hand in mine. I took one of the army men, laid it in his hand, and closed his fingers around it. I looked into his eyes and smiled, "You are my brave soldier." He resisted a sob and nodded his head. With my last, raspy, breath I patted his hand and whispered to him as a single tear fell down my son's cheek, "Charge..."
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