The Last Beach

Machinery whirred, metal met metal as the sound of gears pierced the air, grinding to a halt at the forest's end. Corlyn ran his fingers across the hot conveyer belt, feeling its coarse, hot iron plates. Its awful spikes contrasted to the smooth silk of sand underfoot. A machine created for destruction, a large single barrel cannon pointed straight at his family and friends.

He traced the smoothed edges of his conch shell necklace, and kissed it for good luck - a habit he had developed when defending the last parcels of his home against the oppressors. He didn't believe in God, but still prayed to the sea for luck to defend this beach - their ancestral home.

On the sand’s edge, the machines formed a square battle line and blocked their escape. The war for their land had been raging for years, and now they had little time, or people left to stop the outworlders from taking their islands, rich with minerals and resources.

‘So you want to die by the water?’ Vant proclaimed, his white military uniform blazing in contrast to the black army behind him. He reeked of a man who hadn't seen home in months.

‘We don't die here, Vant, we are born. Our bodies are one with the body of water itself,’ Corlyn said. His battle cry was met with a raucous tide, his people raising their spears in unison. Vant laughed at their defiance.

‘You're standing in the way of progress. Your people have fought well. Don't let them die in vain for some dead religion,’ Vant said.

‘Progress isn't pillaging and burning Vant. You will destroy this planet and then move on, just like you did to the last. What's left when you've plundered every planet in the cosmos for your war?’ Corlyn asked.

Vant shrugged, conceding the point but his slumping posture signalled the banality of Corlyn’s plea. Corlyn knew the stocky man wasn't a general with the ability to make decisions.

‘I really am sorry to do this, Corlyn. I've enjoyed our sparring these last few months, but everything ends, even the spirit of your people. Cannon's prepare to fire!’ Vant bellowed with an almighty roar. A roar of finality.

Corlyn ran back into the thin defense line of his people and found her. He gave his beloved Meline one last kiss. She smelt of seasalt and home. He pulled her close and embraced her, burying his head in her long curly hair.

He turned and raised his spear upward. His army followed, as always, and screamed in unison. As the tanks readied to fire, he spun towards the nearest and launched his spear into its long cannon like a dart. The machine jolted and spurned before it erupted into a volcano of fire. Vant turned red and screamed, ‘Fire at will!’

‘For our fallen!’ Corlyn screamed back with bloody fury, as he ran towards the tanks. A tide of bravery washed over him as he led his people to their doom.