Hobbyists of Related Hobbies

This was total war. The King had died three months earlier and never indicated who should take the thrown. His two sons both claimed it and the next step was obvious, a bloody civil war. My squad was stationed near a small radio post in the mountains, nothing ever happened out here.


In the darkness, the shape of an elderly man eclipses the blinding white desk light. The man wipes the sand from his world weary eyes and lets out a long drawn out sigh, showing his age. The man looks around, trying to get his bearings, and hears a loud snap. The man looks in his hands and finds a small model soldier, which his shaking hands have destroyed. Beyond the soldier sits a expertly crafted diorama. The old man strains to fathom where it had come from, but as he looks he starts to remember sleepless nights working on the meticulous details of every soldiers face, of every bullet hole, but most importantly on the wounded. The old man looked over at his clock which burned a bright red 3:26. The old man pick up his paint brush and decides to leave this soldier broken and paints every detail with the slowness and fluidness of age. The old man positions the soldiers in a river bed, a nice place to have it end. Forcing a smile the old man slowly raises shaking hand and turns off the light.