Blood Soaked Skies: Retribution for Lost Pennance (standard:humor, 2623 words)
Author: Rusty Nails	Added: Feb 13 2003	Views/Reads: 3212/2202	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
Our hero is in the midst of a battle. It is him verses the damn Russian bastards. Watch, as he shows no mercy. Watch, as he slaughters hundreds of innocent Russians...with no remorse. Watch as his magnificant victory brings honor to his people, while

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smoke of the forest fires, and the sulfuric gas emitting from the tar 
pits dotted across the forest floor, Rusty could still smell the 
cooking Polish sausage and Vodka wafting from the Russian camp. 

Ivan Ivanavich was born in a small agricultural based province outside
of Moscow.  He was a strong child, born of two hearty parents who 
toiled endlessly, but not fruitlessly on their small two-acre farm 
granted to them by the Russian government. 

Each day was the same routine, his father Thomas Capp Ivanavich would
rise before dawn and head to the barn to milk their one cow and hunt 
for eggs in their small chicken coop.  He would then return to their 
hut and prepare breakfast, all the while smiling to himself and 
whistling the Russian national anthem.  As the sun began to peek its 
sleepy head over the chilly horizon, his mother would head to the barn. 
 The very same barn where years earlier Ivan had fallen over one of the 
toys his father had made especially for him one Christmas and struck 
his head against a metal bucket and dented it.  Hearing Ivan's cries, 
both parents ran to find him and see what had happened.  After finding 
little Ivan, his parents headed indoors to mend his wounds.  The rest 
of the day was not spent on normal farm chores, but on making Ivan 
laugh again.  His parents loved him dearly. 

These memories rushed through Mama's head each morning as she went to
the barn to get that dented bucket.  With it she would fill the animals 
troths and also to start the morning bath.  Once the bath was drawn and 
the water nice and hot, Mama would return indoors to wake her only son, 
Ivan. 

She woke him the same way each morning, she would sit on the edge of his
small straw bed, and softly sing to him in her raspy, off-key voice.  
It's funny, Ivan never noticed that she couldn't sing very well, he 
only noticed the extra care and love she showed him every morning.  He 
loved those mornings, it was one of the only times during the busy day 
when he could actually be alone with his mother and enjoy her company. 

Ivan always woke feeling refreshed, but more importantly feeling loved. 
As his mother whisked him away to his bath, his father would be 
finishing breakfast.  By the time Ivan had washed, the food would be 
already on the table, inviting him to start a new day, one fraught with 
amazing possibilities. 

The day was always seemed a blur to Ivan.  He would help his dad in the
fields till he became tired, and then he'd run home to help his mother 
in the house.  After she dismissed him, the rest of the day was spent 
exploring in the near by wood.  He had spent hundreds of hours in that 
small forest, digging up fossils or playing army with his dog Oscar.  
He was never short on imagination, always creating new worlds in which 
to play and new civilizations in which to explore. 

When Ivan was school age, he worked diligently to learn his lessons.  He
did well in school, always trying to complete his assignments to the 
highest standard, never wanting to disappoint his parents or himself.  
Of all the classes he took however, he loved writing and literature the 
most.  Whatever book he could get his hands on, he would read.  
Anything was good enough for him.  No matter the quality of the work, 
he would be instantly absorbed into his secret world.  The images and 
words ran deep.  With Ivan, every book seemed to have a soul.  Every 
word was there for a reason; it was just a matter of figuring out what 
it was trying to say to him. 

Spending most of his time reading, Ivan still always made time for his
family and friends.  He was an outgoing teen.  Everyone liked him, and 
he was never pressed for something to do or a friend to be with.  The 
girls liked him as well.  He had a handful of girlfriends growing up, 
each more pretty than the last.  He was the envy of all the boys and 
the dream of every girl.  But as it turned out the first girl he liked 
back in his middle school years, would turn out to be the one that he 
would pursue in the end. 

They were the perfect match.  Ivan the proper gentleman and Petty a
rough, South Russian raised girl with a spunky personality, and an 
insatiable zest for life.  Ivan spent many hours hand in hand with his 
love Petty.  They would walk the countryside and dream of their future 
together.  They would gaze at the open fields and plan where their 
house would be, where their kids would chase after their dogs, and 
where Ivan would teach their first son to play catch.  They even knew 
on which tree they would have their homemade swing and where they would 
greet Ivan's parents as they drove their rusting truck down their dirt 
driveway. 

Not too soon after they finished their schooling, Ivan got the nerve to
propose to Petty.  It wasn't anything fanciful, he simply told her he 
loved her and that he would live his life in an attempt to make it 
better for her and their children.  Of course she said yes, and soon 
the wedding was on everyone's mind. 

All was going well for the couple to be.  Their plans were falling
together as they had always dreamed.  However, at about that time the 
war broke out.  Petty didn't want Ivan to go and his mother pleaded 
with him to stay and raise a family.  However, Ivan knew, and his 
father new as well, that his country was calling upon him and he had to 
go. 

He signed up for a four-year tour with the Russian Army.  Soon, the day
of his departure arrived.  His entire family went with him to the train 
station.  There were many tears and goodbyes as the train came into 
view but Ivan promised he would write every time he got the chance.  He 
also promised he would be careful and would be home just as soon as his 
tour was over.  As he stepped onto the train, he turned to his wife and 
blew her one last kiss.  He then turned his back to the safe world he 
knew.   The door slammed shut behind him. 

A few months later, Petty was rushed to Ivan's parents' house with
important news.  As she came speeding down the driveway, she could see 
both parents sitting on their porch hugging each other.  When she 
reached them finally, nothing was said, but Ivan's mother gently placed 
an open envelope into Petty's hand.  She opened it slowly; not knowing 
if what was to come would be something tragic. 

Her eyes screened the letter-finally, her hands dropped limply to her
knees and she slumped to the ground tears welling in her eyes.  The 
letter had been from Ivan.  He told the family that he was all right 
and that he was doing quite well in the army.  He had climbed the ranks 
to Lieutenant and was now in charge of twenty-five men!  He ended the 
letter by saying, “I love you Petty, and think of you always.” 

This is how he ended every letter that he sent from that point on...and
the letters kept coming.  He would send at least one a month, sometimes 
he would skip a month and his parents and wife would wait anxiously 
each day to see if something had come, but it always did in the end.  
He kept them up to date on his life in the army and the status of the 
war in general.  It turns out that the Russian army was doing quite 
well in the war and that victory was almost ensured.  Everything was 
going quite well on all the fronts, and with the final defeat of a 
small American outpost, the war would be over.  By that point, his four 
years would be up anyway, and he would be coming home within a month 
regardless of the outcome. 

Ivan stretched his long muscular arms as he sat up in his cot.  Another
peaceful nights sleep on the front.  He got out of bed and began to put 
on his uniform as he always did.  In the morning a few soldiers came in 
from time to time reporting the current situation of the encampment. 

All was well.  The camp was already in full swing, soldiers were singing
as they went about their morning routines and the smell of fresh 
sausage cooking on open fires filled the air.  Ivan inhaled deeply and 
savored the mouthwatering aromas coming from outside.  He put on his 
hat and as he was buttoning his top few buttons, he thought back to his 
childhood on the farm long ago.  He thought back to mornings of waking 
up to his mother's raspy off-tune singing, to the hot baths and to the 
hearty breakfast that was always waiting for him when he arrived in the 
kitchen.  He smiled to himself as he continued to button his collar.  
The collar reminded him of his wedding day.  How he hurriedly rushed to 
get dressed and nervously buttoned his white shirt, barely able to 
control his shaking hands long enough to finish the job.  He thought 
back to his wife.  He was looking forward to the end of this day 
however, for this was the day he would be relieved of his duty, and 
would be able to go home to his family.  He sighed deeply, stretched 
his arms and stepped out into the first light of day.  His soldiers 
greeted him warmly as he walked calmly to a small table on which the 
steaming, sausage sat prepared.  He wondered what his mother was 
preparing this morning and whether his wife was awake yet.  One more 
day he thought, and then I'll be home for good, home with my family... 

Ivan's body slumped headless and lifeless onto the table, overturning
glasses of vodka and smashing plates of sausage at the same time.  His 
skull had acted like shrapnel as it exploded, the shards killing the 
other soldiers sitting nearby.  His head had actually exploded so 
quickly and had been cut from his neck so perfectly that the hat he had 
been wearing had hovered motionless over his stump then fell comically 
to the ground where it landed in a pool of Ivan's own blood.  The 
sudden trauma to his nervous system also produced another humorous side 
affect, his bowls released themselves and soon Ivan's body stank of his 
own feces and urine. 

“Pardon me Mr..”  Deep inhale...pause...exhale. “I thought this was a
‘no shit your pants' zone.”  With that Rusty extinguished the last 
cigarette he had, in the pool of blood forming beside the still 
thrashing body of a Russian Lieutenant. 


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