by Brian Troyer

Created on: July 02, 2009

The Coward

Nnadalo sped across the African plain, his lean, dark figure leaping over mounds of earth and small ditches like a gazelle. His long arms and legs pumped furiously, and his bare feet left small dust clouds as they hit the dry dirt, which swirled into the air with his next steps. As he ran he resembled a small, skinny tree tearing along into the morning sunrise, and his silhouette vanished quickly into the horizon. The cause of his haste was nowhere to be found. He was alone on the plains except for the occasional distant giraffe and several curious meerkats that poked their thin heads out of the ground as he passed, and chattered until they could no longer see him.

The African sunrise developed before the boy as he ran. Just an hour ago, the entire sky was an incredibly deep shade of blue, and stars spattered the night sky like so many grains of sand flung into the air. Then, almost imperceptibly at first, the horizon began to lighten, then the rest of the sky, moving across from the east. The hues of the sky began to change faster and faster, fluffy clouds transformed from purple hills to bright pink mountains in the sky. Then, all at once, the sun burst forth from its slumber, flooding the plains with its first light of the new day. Nnadalo knew this sight well; he had watched many sunrises with his father, the chief of their village. His father! Nnadola clenched his fists and ground his teeth as tears rolled even faster down his face. His breathing began to labor and come in short, quick gasps. As he slowed to a walk, the sobs came. His bony back rose and fell as he cried, and he sank to the ground at the base of a small shrub. Why did I do it? He thought, as uncontrollable emotions flooded through him. He had known it was a mistake even as he had done it, but he was so afraid. He punched himself in the thigh as he realized for the thousandth time that he had been a coward. His mind drifted back to that fateful night two months before.

Nnadalo! Nnadalo! Come! His father whispered, shaking him awake. The boy rubbed his eyes and sat up. Through the doorway of his hut, he could see the gathering war party. The bronze tips of spears flashed in the firelight, and oil glistened on the bodies of the thirty warriors standing in the moonlight. Nnadalo wearily got out of bed, and as he stepped into the cool, damp breeze of the night, he jolted awake. The reality of his first raid brought

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