Burning The Nations: Part II

January 26, 2010
"Sakong hand me your flag as you take this torch from my hand," Cyrus said. He said it in a calm tone, as if he were talking to his best mate. But, somehow it was more terrifying than if he had just shouted it in Sakong's face. Cyrus took the flag as if it were a gift, while Sakong was reluctant to get his hands on the black instrument in Cyrus's hand.

Everyone noticeably tensed up as Cyrus held the flag out in front of Sakong. The seconds that ticked by felt like hours, and the man expected the sun to show it's brilliance at any moment.

"Sakong," Cyrus said, "you said that you believed in the equality of humanity, did you not?"

"I did Cyrus."

"Then you shall prove yourself to the cause," Cyrus said.

"I will."

"Sakong, do you know how to use that torch in your hand?"

"I do not Cyrus," Sakong said, "but, if you would just tell me than I will."

"And I will. All you have to do is take the safety off and pull down on the pressure gauge."

The man watched as Sakong fumbled with the device until suddenly a red and orange fire blazing like the sun erupted from the end. Even from the distance that he was the man could feel the heat radiating from the instrument. The flame died out as the startled Sakong released his finger of the gauge.

"Now Bae, do you know what I am about to ask of you?" Cyrus said.

Sakong tensed up at being addressed by his first name. He shook his head.

"I am asking that you burn this piece of cloth hanging by a pole in my hand."

"Cyrus?" Sakong said.

"You heard me correctly Bae. By doing this you are showing that you no longer want humanity to be separated by nation."

"I," began Sakong, "understand." He said it in a heartfelt tone that said that he didn't. In one swift movement Sakong ignited the torch and the flag was instantly consumed in flame.

The man watched shocked as the fire ate away at the flag. Chunks of detached cloth floated to the ground where they continued to cook. The ground in between Cyrus and Bae was like a battlefield. If the man were observing the burning from a distance he would be shaking his head. Fire was among the world’s most abused gifts, from the very moment its power was discovered by cavemen. In no time the blaze had eaten away the flag down to the pole. The pole, was of some heat resistant element, because Cyrus did not seem bothered by any heat being conducted by the pole. When the flag was no more Cyrus let the pole fall out of his grip. It fell in what seemed like slow motion. It's clang echoed in his mind long after the sound faded from the face of the Earth.


"Devlin, Oliver!" Cyrus said. "Retrieve a flag!"


The two Officers who had been watching the horror in silence briskly marched forward and each dug through the pile for a flag. The mans heart lept when he saw one of them grip the flag of his homeland. When the man let go and instead picked another his rate rate did not return to normal. No matter which flag was chosen the result would be the same. Or would it? Could he stand to see his flag be burned?





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