Dawn of Battle is a short humorous story that turns an ordinary battle against mosquitoes into an absurd military campaign. Told entirely from the perspective of a sleep-deprived combatant, it plays with dramatic language and escalating imagery – the contrast between epic warfare and a very ordinary bedroom.
Dawn of Battle
A half-full bladder and the sound of buzzing had woken me.
The sun was creeping through the slits in the curtains, and the previous night’s sleeping tablets had started to wear off. The kickback to reality and the small, itchy spots all over my body meant one thing: I was going to war.
I crept out of bed, headed to the bathroom, and tended to one of the things that woke me. Relieved.
I grabbed the Zapper. It was my sword, my weapon of choice against the onslaught of winged nemeses devoted to sucking the life out of me while I slumbered.
I set to work. At first, I stood slightly past the doorway to the bedroom. I closed my eyes, let out a long, low breath, and waited for the first sound of attack.
Bzzzt.
My eyes shot open, and I saw my first adversary out of the corner of my right eye. With a flick of my wrist—zpppt—it was slain. At the sound of their fallen compatriot, the others began to stir and readied their attacks.
Another took a shot at me, and then another, and then another. The room was filled with the sounds of tiny exploding corpses and my own grunts of anguish as they spawned from seemingly nowhere.
And then, at last, it was over. There were no more creatures to slay, and no more of my blood would be stolen from me. It wouldn’t last, but it was a small victory.
I left the room and placed the mighty weapon back in its resting place. Relieved, I made my way back to bed for some well-earned relaxation. As I lay down–
Bzzzt.
Bzzzzzzt.
This time, I took to battle and rushed in without knowing where the enemies were. More importantly, there was no time to reach for the sword. I thrust out my right arm and caught one in my hand. And another. And then a third.
Bzzzzzzt. Bzzz… zzzt.
The sounds of war had ceased, but my right hand looked like a blood bath. Several small, winged creatures lay crushed in my hand, surrounded by splatterings of their own internals and my recently stolen, life-giving crimson—their nourishment.
I washed the battle from my hand and the sweat from my forehead. The weapon still slept safely in its resting place, and I decided to leave it there. I wouldn’t need it now. They should have learned to retreat and form a better battle plan.
I could finally lie down in bed and relax for the morning, taking in the beauty of the sunrise while planning the day ahead.
The bed sheets were comforting.
Bzzzt.
Author’s note: I found that this song goes quite well with Dawn of Battle by Manowar.