The colonel was torn. His son who had enlisted in the war had died. He drank his whiskey in his office room and rambled curses at anyone who entered his office. He chewed the tobacco and spat it out. He had become unruly in the tent as the lights dimmed. There was bombing above the ground and the regiment had to move out. "Colonel! Colonel," a soldier came running into his office room. What do you want? Shouted the colonel as he pointed his gun at the soldier. Sir, we need to move out of here! said the soldier. Why!? he asked again shouting at the solider. The rooms going to come down anytime sir, replied the soldier as another bomb dropped down. The soldiers helmet almost dropped off, of his head. He held it together and put it back on his head. Get out! said the colonel as his gun remained pointed at the soldiers head. The soldier turned and walked away. The lights were totally cut out. He tried to light his cigarette. His matches did not light. But there was a light there. A hand reached out for him and lit it for him. He did not care from where the light came from. He smoked his cigarette and moved it with his hand to see where the whiskey was. The dim fire was not enough for him to reach for the whiskey. He wanted to light another match and reached for his pockets. There was nothing for him. Another match was lit as the leather clad hands of a female warrior was seen. He looked at her. She blew the matches away.
Purple eyes..