He felt the serenity of it all as looked out across the countryside. Hundreds of acres sprawled out far beyond one’s gaze. It was probably one of the most beautiful sights he had ever seen. A landscape completely uncluttered of mini-malls and coffee shops. The purest example of God’s artistry.
Many yesterdays ago in another time, this place was different. For three continuous days these acres were soaked in blood. A war among neighbors had come to this place. Men fought each other for reasons that were commanded into their soul. Friends were reduced to heartless targets to destroy. The innocence of a man’s youth was darkened on the battlefield. Killing became part of their daily routine, a regime without thought. Thousands came here to this land of life and died fighting to protect it.
The tour guide never stopped rattling off the grisly facts about this event, its carnage now over a hundred years ago. Some cars drove by alongside the group, speeding past the monuments erected to the dead. The driver’s focused on desitinations that they’ll live long enough to see.
A teenage boy from the group complains about the lack of wi-fi in the area. He never lifts his head awy from his phone to acknowledge the history around him. This same land that once had another teenage boy cry out. This boy would lay out in a humid field on a July day, his clothes soaked in blood. The cries for help eventually being silenced by death’s notice.
The peace of the land was now here today. Lingering are the souls of the men who fought here, their screams of war never silenced by the peace they fought for.
The Magic Shop 
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