Life after the war

The sun was rich with a bright illuminated glow, that seemed like a large candle that could blow out any second. They sky was not clear but synchronized with soft fluffy consummate white clouds that danced mirthfully with one another. There was a dusty dirt road weaving through sectors of fields, each owned by assorted families. Chirps of birds haloed through the air as the wind danced softly pushing the birds higher and higher until they were one with the sky. There were children running amok laughing as they pursued one another, possibly in a game once called tip you're it.

An old bus rolled upon the ungraded road shadowing a select route. It cut into forks and remained in a single unaltered path. The rusty old thing slowed going up hill and flew as fast as light down them. It made horrid sounds of metal clumping collectively, scraping against one another until they were red. The bus itself looked as if it was made in a junk yard. They blue painted was quickly peeling off turning white before being over followed with rust. Millions of tiny to large dents scampered along the exterior of the mortifying thing.

The bus rattled to a halt before the almost impossible-to-open door creaked open appointing a horrid sound that could make any human screech in pain and run off as if their pants were in flames. No one stepped inside the bus nor did anyone out. The driver, an old man with a bread as grey as the rifle he shot back in the day, looked back at the passenger to see who was get off. Ten men were seated apart from one another, all soundless and awaiting their stop. They were clad in a green uniform that held their rank and how long they were in service. At their feet was a single sack for each, containing their momentous brought o...

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.... Sitting tightly in the cushion was a single gold ring. The band looped under the stone twice before connecting again. The stone itself was a petite exquisite blue emerald. Tears formed anew as she caressed the ring bawling out Luka's name just as his brother arrived wrapping his arms around her, attempting to comfort her. The infant at their feet, pulling at the ring as if trying to take the suffering away

Luka went to the mountains contemplating. He wanted to go back, comfort her, tell her he loved her but he stopped himself. She would never be the same woman he loved. There would always be a sort of tension between them. He had to live his life, be who he was to be before the war. Find a new dream, a new goal a new desire. He helped save his country, he must now live in it. Go live your life son. Live it to it's fullest potential. You deserve at least that much.