Suburban Warfare

Today's muse: Daily Writing Practice

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Suburban Warfare

Birds trill well wishes to one another, leaves rustle as they tumble down the street—a Saturday morning symphony. It is a peaceful prelude to the battle that will soon begin.

The atmosphere shifts as warriors begin to gather at the battleground. Each one is filled with anticipation, charging the air with energy. They appear in twos and threes—some arrive alone.

The difference in class is apparent: those with means are outfitted with the best protection; some wear second-hand pieces, weathered by countless others in this age-old dance; a few wear nothing but the simple clothes they own, prepared to risk flesh and bone.

But it is not about the gear or the equipment; it is not about wealth. This ancient tradition transcends all classes, all ages, all boundaries. Singing to the passionate spirit, it equalizes the masses to build a cohesive unit and forge alliances that will survive evermore.

As the bright orange ball is dropped and L-shaped sticks slap in combat, a young voice peals the battle cry:

“Game on!”

And the war begins.