Troops are approaching a small town. A tiny band of brothers, a militia of sorts, prepares to defend it. A single shot rings out that changes the course of the war. On this episode, Zack’s story propels us into a discussion on what defines heroism, and when to take a stand.
Welcome to Smirk. A podcast that covers society and culture through a storytelling lens. Part creative writing, part discussion, and always interesting. Each week our hosts brings a story to the show, a story they wrote themselves, which is immediately followed by discussion on the author’s moral or theme. These stories can cover any topic the host wants to discuss, it can be lighthearted or more serious. No one but the author knows if these tales are truth or fiction, and part of the fun is guessing while you’re listening before the reality is made clear. We want to hear from you! If you want to share YOUR story, join the conversation by writing in to mystory@smirkpodcast.com, and include your moral, or you can let us guess at it. This is the podcast that looks at truth, fiction, and reality. With a Smirk. Don’t forget to subscribe to Smirk and share the show with your friends!
Want to read Zack’s story “The Shot Heard Round The World” in full? Think you can identify the moral or theme for this episode? Read it below, and then take a listen to the podcast.
The Shot Heard Round The World
Their forces seemed overwhelming as they approached. Those uniforms of theirs used to inspire hope, but now most people reacted with fear. The conflict had felt so far away, but I guess that’s the thing with war. It always comes to your doorstep.
We had a small militia here in town, but it was nothing compared to the vast number of troops approaching. Their General approached and asked for our captain. John stepped forward, because he was our militia leader. John was a bartender though, not a soldier. We shot targets once a week, but we were not a force. They had a force.
Their conversation got tense quickly. I couldn’t make out the full details, but it sounded like they thought we were stashing stolen military supplies in town. I hadn’t heard of that before, but it was probably true. Our small, growing country was growing more and more rebellious as the months passed. It would explain why we rushed all the women and children out of town last night.
But the conversation eventually ended, and John asked us to lay down our arms. But the idiot was sick, probably hungover, and not everyone heard him. I sure wasn’t going to be the first man to lay down his rifle. It appeared everyone else felt the same, or didn’t hear, because no one put down their guns and no one moved. We were ready to stand our ground.
In an instant, everything changed.
I’m not sure who shot first or where from, but a gunshot rang out. And quickly did more rings of gunfire fill the air. Almost all of them came from their massive army. As I looked around, I saw my neighbors and friends begin to die. I got down on one knee and fired off a single round. It was some nameless soldier, but I got him right between the eyes.
Then I felt a sharp pain in my neck, and I tumbled to the ground. Gasping for air as I lay dying, a small thought comforted me. Though I may die today, I showed them even Gods could be scarred.