Valor

Two boys must decide what will truly change them into men

My brother stared at the long, slim box I was holding.

"What is it?"

"I found it in the attic—"

"Grandpa said that's off limits!"

"Shh!" I paused. "There were even more little boxes like this, too..."

"Well... what is it? Open it!"

When we opened it, we saw a gold star and eagle on a blue ribbon nestled gently on a velvet bed of dark gray. "Is that...?"

"I think it's—"

A deep, quiet voice behind us rumbled: "It's the Congressional Medal of Honor." Grandpa slowly took the box out of my hands.

My brother looked at him in awe. "Wow!" he whispered. "You never told us you were a hero, grandpa!"

Grandpa looked at us with tears brimming in his eyes. "There's no such thing as heroes in war. Just killers and survivors, boys." He paused, a tear spilling down his cheek as he spoke to us. "I never showed you these because I never want you to to think of war in terms of glory and heroics. It's a nasty, terrifying thing that breaks men in two...even the survivors."

I watched him like I'd never seen him before; his tears fascinated and horrified me at the same time.

He closed the box gently and slid it in the pocket of his long cardigan. "Stay away from the attic, boys; it's only a record of death. Go outside and play among the living. And for God's sake, don't play war."

Years later, as I stood outside the recruiting office wondering if becoming a Marine would make me a man, I remembered his solemn face and the tears of a broken heart. I decided then and there that it doesn't make a man to pick up a gun; a true man teaches the children the heroics of making peace.

NOTES: ▼

Word Count: 300
Submitted for "Daily Flash Fiction Challenge" 
Prompt: Use the phrase "I found it in the attic"