Valmy apprehension

What follows is another brief composition from the creative writing class I attended last week. We were given four words – rage, courage, hope and peace – and told to construct something involving one or all of them as themes.

This is what I came up with:

“Courage, mon brave”. Jacques scowled at the remark, intended to reassure but instead only exacerbating his anxiety. The blasted wet-behind-the-ears officer was full of such mindless platitudes. Tactical intelligence? Organisational flair? Nope, just useless bloody words. What an absolute travesty that the army had come to rely on such brainless dolts in the field.

Still, they had to take what they could get. Most of the elite officer corps had defected fairly rapidly. Understandable, given how many were of aristocratic bearing. A few were directly related to the now-imprisoned King, so their keenness to switch sides did not surprise anyone, least of all a cynic like Jacques.

He hoped some good would come of all this, of all the fine words and noble ideals, of all the vicious battles and inhumane conflicts. The Republic would be forged in blood, of that there was no doubt. Whether it would survive the peace was another matter entirely…

Solidarity, brothers & sisters…

About Seba Roux

Gooner, Socialist, Historian, Slacker. That's pretty much all you need to know.
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