SUNSET
Manuel stood there watching the sun set. The sky was filled with colors that made him feel calm. But he
couldn't see as well because his vision was becoming blurry due to his old age. Nonetheless, Manuel
enjoyed watching the sunset because it reminded him of his younger brother, and their last moments
together.
The night was peaceful. The soldiers tried not to make a sound by holding their breath. Nobody knew what
could happen at any time. Life was as thin as a thread, and everyone hoped for one thing.
That they would live.
The third of February 1945. This was when the battle began, and it’s been going on for days now. It seemed
to be never-ending.
Manuel turned to face his younger brother, who was laying on the ground with his eyes closed but his lips
moving – he was praying.
“For whom are you praying for?” Manuel asked.
“For us. For our country. I’m praying that we live.” Carlos replied to his older brother.
All Manuel could do was stare at Carlos; his eyes sad. He sighed and said, "We're not going to die. Carlos,
this will pass. You'll see. We'll emerge from this war as heroes."
Manuel's words made Carlos chuckle.
"You're very optimistic Kuya, but optimism won't get us out of this war.” He said, “Hundreds of our people
have died because of this war. Who knows when we'll be the next victims? " Carlos explained.
"Stop saying that," Manuel slapped his brother on the back of the head, “Carlos, we're going to live. Go to
bed now; you need to rest."
The sky was red, like the blood that had been spilled. The din was deafening. Manuel's ears felt as if they
were going to bleed from the loud noises made by the guns and bombs. The people's cries rang out – shouts
and screams of terror.
As he hid from the battle, Manuel held his breath. He was doing everything he could not to cry.
He had no idea where his brother was, which worried him. Manuel stood up a little and looked over at the
battle that was going on.
He noticed his younger brother standing in the foreground. Manuel was filled with pride as well as dread.
His younger brother was a strong man. He defended himself against the enemy, not showing any fear.
But in a split second, he fell.
In that second, Manuel’s world came crashing down. He no longer saw the light of day. He no longer hoped
for the future.
“Carlos!" Manuel screamed as he saw his brother collapse to the ground.
Manuel ran. He ran and grabbed his brother even though bullets were flying in all directions. He dragged
his younger brother to the nearest cover.
"Kuya," Carlos said quietly.
“No! Carlos, please stop talking. You'll make it worse! You need to hang in there, okay? We're going to
get help! " Manuel said between sobs as he tried to stop his little brother's blood from gushing out.
Carlos feebly held Manuel's bloodied hand.
“It’s okay, Kuya...” Carlos weakly said, “We’re heroes, right?”
Manuel could no longer keep in his tears.
He nodded and answered, “Yes Carlos. You are a hero.”
One month of reoccurring events. One month of bombs and people's cries. He was now accustomed to the
sound. He wasn't as bothered as he had been at first. Manuel was numb to what was going on around him.
He no longer cried. He no longer felt anything.
Manuel questioned himself every day. He didn't understand why he had survived but his younger brother
had not. His brother. His fourteen-year-old brother who still has so much ahead of him.
The older brother gazed out the window as the sun dipped below the horizon, the last gasp of beauty before
the death of the day. Manuel felt free. Finally, he smiled and laughed.
The battle was over.
Manuel's breaths became short. As he sat watching the sun set, he thanked the Lord for giving him the
chance to live, for him and for his brother.
"I'm joining you now, brother. I've missed you."
And with these final words, Manuel took his final breath of air, content with his fate. He had a wonderful
life, but it would have been even better with Carlos by his side.