Mighty Strong

If walls can talk, then the ruins would be the death of someone you know.

I can hear, see, and feel those around me. Yet, I am a wall.

Those who’ve built me, built me strong. I am a mighty wall that protects the keep inside this castle. I heard many claims me to have been strong.

The days when I was mighty strong, are the days I crave for.

People entered the keep if they could pass through my hole. My hole was arched and guarded. Many call it a gate, I prefer to call it a Murder Hole, Hole for short.

Rain nor shine may worn me down my grout but the people I protected had kept care of me. They washed the ashes off the parts that hide the people within me. The grout was added before a single rock could slip off myself.

I remember the sounds in the hall with the people who stood on top of me. I heard them cry when they return from beyond the hills, I miss the times when singing was heard within the hall and the crevices that roam throughout the massive size I once was, and I loved the laughter when the children hide once they had the chance to run from the hall.

I’ve seen many sunsets, and sunrises. The rising sun brings many to enter inside. I see many that partied within the hall then fell off the top of myself. I saw animals await in the moat when the hall is loud. Trees, grasses, and other foliage might block my mighty view but the people looked out for me and cut them down.

I felt many things.

Winning the wars, when the people within me need me the most, made me feel proud. I may have been on fire when I once was a young wall made of wood and had the enemy let inside. Embarrassment was felt, but my people were strong and pushed the enemy into the fires they made. I was confused when I turned into stone, the knights claimed that I am stronger then ever then I became giddy and delighted for the next fight.

I felt that my people were well protected.

Many wars did collapse the walls closer to the keep, I managed to stand tall to protect the bulk of the invasions. Providing a helping hand to the other walls, gave me a feeling that no human could provide.

The owners of this castle cheered on during and after the battles. There were times when the older person cheered for the boost, they did not managed to cheer the victory one. Instead, it was most often the little version of the adult owner that came and drank with me. They all said the same thing, that war is brutal and painful, but it must be done to protect those they care about.

There was one child that I remember that made me feel kinship to a human. All he mentioned as he drank himself on top of the highest point on me, was this, “I must be strong as you my mighty wall.”

Since then, I felt lonely.

When an enemy made a fist and pushed it through a wall, by making a rock fly towards me, the time for me to crumble, was when those owners joked about when these pigs can fly are when I will fall.

Being alone is different than feeling alone. Though it could be because I felt broken.

I am sad.

A few years later, I started to feel jealous.

The cheers I miss that was once inside the hall, which was using me as one of its sides, has been coming across the moat.

The city that produced the stones, mortar, and wood for me, it had fell with me. We crumbled together, yet the city was rebuilt without me.

I am a wall that wishes to talk, or at least to be able to see above the weeds and trees to watch those cheering and hear them singing, as I slowly become dust.