My Old Friend

The air was still and warm. The Moon and Stars were shining bright with no sign of clouds in their way. The night was silent. Almost like even the animals didn’t want to disturb the silence. Nights like tonight make it possible to believe everything is good in the Universe. As I lay in the hay loft door way with the hay at my back. I know the sun will rise in the morning and I'll have to leave before my family wakes. You see, I am toxic to my family. I am not who I used to be. The wars started not just here on Earth but all over the Universe. Have killed everything good in me. I should've done the honorable thing, and died on the battlefields, but that's not me. I have to have too much stubborn pride. So I made it home when they said my duty was done.

I was greeted like some hero, but to me….. Shedding blood is no hero. Since Earth joined the War of the Planets; the draft came back. This time the draft did not care if you were male, female, transgender, young, old, first born, last born, and so on. It took whoever or whatever it wanted. If you had a background knowledge of basic survival, you were wanted even more.

Growing up in the backwoods on a tiny farm. Well that made me a good candidate. The day I turned sixteen is the day the draft came back. I remember that day like it was just this morning.

Mom was singing in the kitchen while cooking up my birthday breakfast (a tradition she does for everyone in the family, even after I left). My Dad and I were out tending to the animals, while my younger siblings were playing in their fort.

The yard dogs started barking and raising a fuse before anyone even saw that fancy new Cadalac driving down our long gravel driveway (our driveway is so long the county gave it a street sign). By the time the Cadalac came to a stop in front of the house. Everyone but my Dad and I were on the porch. This bald headed giant of a man with a nasty scar on his face got out of the driver seat. He then opened the door to the man in the backseat. He was what you called a “pretty-boy” in a fancy tapered suit and tie. My senses were telling me, he was pure evil. Even with that smile on his face.

He walked straight up to Mom and said “Good evening, Mam. I’m Mr. Fort with the United States Government. Is there a Miss Alma here?”

“Children go on in the house now. This is grown up talk” She told my younger siblings. They could tell something was wrong and said “Yes, Mam” then ran in the house. I know they will look out their upstairs bedroom window, to see what is happening outside.

“I am her Mother. What do you need with her?” my Mother asked

By this time my Dad and I were walking from the old barn to the house. We could hear everything that was being said. My Dad had a shovel in his and I had the pitch fork still. As we are walking up to the house we can hear Mr. Fort talking again.

“She has been one of the lucky to be selected first hand for the daft.” he says like I have just won the Million Dollar Lottery.

“She is but a child! She is not even 18! How can she be chosen to fight for a war that we have no reason to even be in!?” My Mother demands.

“She is 16 and my Daughter!” My Dad yells out. This made pretty-boy Jump. Mr. Scary scar face had already seen us walking up. Pretty-Boy was to stupid to look at his surroundings to even notice us earlier.

Mr.Fort puts his pretty-boy face back on and says. “Ah, you must be Miss Alma. It's a pleasure to meet you.” He puts his hand for me to shake, but I just stare at him and keep my grip on the pitch fork and my left hand in my knife in my pocket.

He puts his hand down after a minute. Realizing I will never shake his hand. I can see Mr. Scary from the corner of my eye trying to hide a grin. Well at least I know I’m not the only one who doesn't like Pretty-boy.

“I am not taking your daughter anywhere sir. I am just here as a messenger to give you this letter of Welcome into the Draft. Also answer any questions you all may have.” He tells us.

I reach for the letter he hands me, open it and silently read it to myself. Then hand it to my Dad. Well Pretty-boy is legit. The letter indicates that I no longer belong to me, but now belong to the draft.

The sound of the old barn owl wakes me from my thoughts. I’m still surprised the old owl is still alive. He was old when I left and I have been gone for 10 years now. I guess he's letting me know it's time for me to grab my bag and ride out before the sun starts to rise.

“I know, I know my old friend. It’s time to go.” I tell the old owl.

I climb down the old ladder and pick my bag up off the barn floor. I start at Dixie's stall and saddle her up. I leave the note to my family on her door. Then lead her out of the barn. With one last look at the house where my family will be waking in a few hours to start their day. I jump into the saddle and ride out.

As we're riding out I can hear the old owl. “Are you coming to my old friend?” I can hear his reply right behind me. I grin, I know everything will be okay.