A Legend Remembered by One

A Legend Remembered by One 

“Can you tell me the story of how you became a legend, Grandpappy?” Drew glanced at his grandfather’s right arm, and the plaid shirtsleeve that hung loosely against his side. The seven year old took a sip of his sweet tea, questions filling his young, blue eyes. 

With a nod, I led my youngest grandson to the porch swing and settled in to tell a old story. A story that changed my life.

~~~

Everyone around me ran. I froze. 

Five words kept my feet from following my brain's first instinct to run for my life. 

She’s too young to die. 

My pulse quickened as the poor souls around me scattered away from the oncoming fire. It was raining bullets. Machine guns were no joke, and this enemy was brutal. 

I crouched low, bracing myself for the pain that was sure to be the consequence of my stubbornness. But how could I just run and take cover when there was a little girls’ life on the line? No man could live with himself if he sat back and watched such a innocent life become a calamity of war. 

The difference was, I signed up for war, she didn’t. 

I held my breath as I crossed the few hundred feet from where I had been standing when the shooting began. The deep mud slipped underfoot but I persisted. The open road was quickly becoming overtaken by soldiers. Only, they were soldiers with a different order than I’d been given. I was ordered to guard and protect. These men came to wipe out this small village. And they were going to do just that—if I didn’t act quickly. 

Only a few more feet and then I’ll reach her. My steps faltered and my breathing was labored. 

I took a moment of cover behind a rusty building, positioning myself, I took aim and returned fire. The shot pounded my ears and mixed with the shattering sounds around me. Sweat poured down my brow. There was no way I was going to hold them back. There were too many men. 

Leaving my meager refuge spot, I ducked my head once again in pursuit of bringing the child to safety. The five year old child hunkered underneath a fruit stand, frightful tears streaming down her cheeks as she tightly clutched a ragged doll with white knuckles. A surge of new energy pulsed through me. I’d already failed my duty to this village, but I was going to do everything in my power to get that girl away from the terror that surrounded this place. 

“Please, God, help me save her.” My whispered prayer was consumed through the noise around me. But—it was heard by the only One who could help me get out of this situation alive. I knew that was all that mattered. 

Just as I reached the fruit stand, seizing pain ripped through my uniformed shoulder. I’d been hit. The girls’ tears turned to sobs at the sight of my blood. 

“Shhh, it’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you. I’m here to help you.” I said in a soft voice, despite my overwhelming desire to scream in pain. 

Her eyes were wide but she nodded. She knew. Even though she couldn’t understand my language, she knew I wasn’t going to harm her. I reached for her and small arms wrapped around my neck. Again, I felt new strength because my heart swelled with protectiveness for this girl.

Only a few last bullets whipped by, missing their intended target, as we sloshed through the mud to safety. My mission was complete. The little girl was safe. Never again will I take for granted my freedom or my peace.

~~~

My glass of sweet tea somehow tasted bitter as I told the story of how I lost my arm. That day was a day of pain and solemnness. A day that I’d never forget. A child that I’d never forget. 

“You see, Drew,” I said to my grandson beside me on the porch swing, “I wasn’t anything special that day. I'd let down the village. I’d let down my fellow soldiers and officials. But, by the grace of God, I saved one little girl’s life. And that one small miracle made losing my arm worth the pain. God used me in His plan. It’s all a domino effect, because that one girl grew up and became a teacher in her village. Her influence to her students has changed the lives of hundreds of other young children. God had a plan for her life, and He used me to make sure that plan became a reality. I might not be a legend to many, but I was a legend to one.”

Time will fade. Seasons will change. Legacy’s are timeless.

This is a piece of flash fiction that I wrote back in January based on this prompt: "Time fades, seasons change. This won't." Comment below and lmk what you thought of it! Thanks for reading!

Many Blessings,

Brooklyne Elysse