Because I didn't want to make a whole other book just for competition entries, I will put them here!  I also want to know people's opinions about my writing for improvement purposes, so feel free to comment any constructive criticisms, mistakes, etc.!  Morgan, I hope you like it!

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The sky was a gentle blue with cotton candy clouds drifting away.  A light breeze danced around, the rice stalks and branches of trees swaying along.  Perhaps it could've been a lovely day to sit outside a barn and cloud watch or take a lazy nap.

But there was no time for that, especially when he was in the middle of war.

It was difficult to trudge forward in the rice paddies because of the mud and water.  They had to stay low while advancing quietly and quickly.  They also had to be careful of landmines.  And of guerrilla attacks.  And of just everything.

His heart threatened to burst through his chest.  He used all of his might to control his breathing, and he used all of his courage to continue on.  Maybe they wouldn't encounter any enemies today.  Maybe they would all be safe.  Maybe they didn't have to do this.  That was all he could think to stay focused and determined to get through another day.  To maintain his emotions.  Maybe━

"Hey!  Old Man!"

A ball crashed through his window.  He must've been daydreaming on his porch and didn't notice the kids playing in the street.  The damage to his house brought him back to reality, and soon enough, the kid who yelled at him was standing a few feet away.

"Old Man, can you get our ball back?"

He only stared at the boy.  He wasn't even angry or annoyed.  This boy... this boy had a peaceful life.  That was good.  He wished he grew up with a peaceful life, too.

"Of course.  Why don't you wait a moment?"

So he stood up slowly ━ his creaking back reminded him how old he was ━ and shuffled inside to get the ball.  Once inside, he couldn't help but look at the terrible state of his window.  Maybe as a middle-aged man, he would've yelled at the kids to fix his window.  Maybe he would've cursed at them and told them to never come back again.  Maybe.

But as an old man, he couldn't help but want to watch the kids play and be carefree.  He couldn't help but watch them and pray that they would only have fun.

Finally retrieving the ball, he returned outside to return the ball to the boy who was still standing on the porch.  But for some reason, the boy's facial expression was different from when he first stepped onto the porch.

"Old Man, I saw a picture in your house.  You were a soldier?"

He stared at the boy with a bittersweet smile.  "Young Lad, those days are over."

After some silence, the boy asked, "What's your name?"

"Julian Stewart."

"Okay.  Thanks, Old Man Julian!"

"Hurry up, Grayson!" one of the other kids shouted.  "You're taking forever!"

"I'm coming!" Grayson shouted back.  Facing Julian one last time, Grayson said, "I'm sorry about your window.  We'll come back with some money to pay for it."

"Whatever rocks your boat, Young Lad.  Your name is Grayson, I suppose?  If you boys come back, I'll have some lemonade ready for you when you want a break from playing.  Sound good?"

Grayson grinned.  "Of course!  See you later!"

Julian shuffled back to his chair on the porch, sat down, and looked up at the sky.  The sky was a gentle blue with cotton candy clouds drifting away.  A light breeze danced around, the wheat stalks and branches of trees swaying along.  Perhaps it could've been a lovely day to sit outside a barn and cloud watch or take a lazy nap.

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This time, they were in the middle of crossfire.  There were some shooters in the trees, and they spotted his group first.  Two of his comrades were soaking in the mud and water, still.  The others were low enough to use the rice stalks as cover and were shooting back.  He was, as well.  He dared not to look at his fallen friends.  The night before, one of them had one a game of poker, and the other played his ukulele to everyone in from of the campfire.  Julian dared not to look at those faces of people he prayed to be able to laugh with again.  He faced forward and continued shooting, hoping that the enemies would retreat soon enough so that they could all go back to the base. 

"It hurts!"

The kids stopped playing and surrounded their friend who had a gash on his leg.  Julian, without saying a word, went inside to get a first aid kit.  When he came back out, he called out, "Grayson, bring your friend over here."

Grayson obliged and, with the help of the other kids, brought the injured one over so that Julian could help them.

"Thanks, Old Man Julian."

"Grayson, why don't you go inside to get the tray of lemonade over?  We all can sit on the porch and relax for a bit while your friend is here."

Soon enough, everyone was drinking lemonade and conversing enthusiastically.  Julian did not join in talking, but he listened in amused silence.  Nostalgia enveloped him like a warm blanket during a cold winter night as he sat by the fire.  He remembered when he played all sorts of game with his friends before the war.  They would catch crickets, play tag, jump over creeks, and be annoyingly happy boys.  Like Grayson, his group of friends did virtually everything together.  If one of them scraped his elbow, they would stop playing and just talk until their mothers dragged them home for dinner.  Julian missed those days.

"Old Man Julian?  Old Man Julian!  Okay, you're listening now."

Julian looked at Grayson.  Oh, it looked like the other boys left already.

"Old Man Julian, I'm going home for dinner now.  Thanks for everything!"  The boy jumped off the porch and was about to jog off before Julian called his name.

"Grayson."  Said boy faced the old man obediently.  "Cherish your friends."

The boy nodded and smiled.  "I will, Old Man Julian.  Bye!"

And soon enough, he was gone again.

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Julian watched the boys grow.  He watched as they no longer played in front of his house every day; they began to only play once or twice a week.  They grew taller.  Some of them grew bigger while others remained lanky.  Julian could guess which ones played sports and which ones focused on academics.  He could guess which ones paid more attention to girls and which ones were busy with friends.  Grayson's updates helped with those guesses, too.

"... And David is really good at baseball!  I'm not as good as him, but I think I'm more interested in football.  What's your favorite sport, Old Man Julian?"

"I played a lot of soccer as a kid.  But I don't see a lot of kids around here playing that."

"Oh, I'm okay at soccer.  You must've been really good!"

Julian laughed.  "Grayson, you wouldn't recognize me if I played.  I was quite the star when I was younger."

They had lighthearted conversations like that, but Julian could tell that the young boy ━ oh, he was a teenager now, as Grayson always reminded him ━ had many things on his mind.

"I want to see you play, but from the way you keep complaining about your back, I think even an amateur like me could get a few goals in."

When conversations died like that, the two would just stare at the sky.  Julian had told Grayson before that silence was not necessarily a bad thing and that if two people couldn't sit in silence together, it was a sign that their relationship wasn't strong enough to persevere.  Grayson was always good at listening to Julian.

"Old Man Julian, do you regret anything?"

"Stewart, we have to go!  We can bring the bodies back later!"

This guerrilla attack was one of the worse ones, and Julian's group's only option was retreat.

"But sir━"

"Stewart!"

"... Yes, sir!"

They had to leave.  They had to leave.  They had to leave.  Julian continued to tell himself that as they abandoned five of their comrades in hopes of at least returning to base to rely the report.  Those five comrades... they had families.  Hopes.  Dreams.  Loved ones.  Friends.  Likes.  Dislikes.  They had lives.  Julian wanted to at least save their valued possessions like their rings, pictures, or anything else.  But they didn't even have time for that.  Julian vowed to return to bring them back to base.

When they came back to get the bodies, Julian could tell that some things were missing, and it hurt his heart to know that he had nothing but a dead body to bring back to his comrades' families.

"Yes, Grayson.  There are many things I regret."

Because Julian made no move to continue, Grayson understood and stood up.  "It's okay, Old Man Julian.  I don't think anyone blames you for whatever it was you're thinking about."

"Thank you, Grayson," Julian said with a gentle smile.  "I could say the same to you."

"Oh..."  Grayson scratched his neck with a sheepish look.  "It's nothing.  Don't worry about it, Old Man Julian.  What's the point of worrying about the past, right?"

'Right,' Julian thought.  'There's no point in worrying about the past.'

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"What's bothering you this time, Grayson?"

"Ugh!  I hate everything!  Mom and Dad won't let me do anything I want, and Mason is being a━ oh, sorry.  No cursing.  But he's just so stupid!  I can't believe we were ever friends!"

Once he got into high school, Grayson always had things to complain about.  His group of friends was almost completely different from the one that played with a ball in front of Julian's house years ago.  He no longer called his parents "Mommy" and "Daddy."  And worst of all, Julian saw it.  Julian saw a future for the boy that looked scarily like his own.

"Grayson, would you like more lemonade?  You've been complaining a lot more recently, and I think it would be good to relax even just a little bit."

Grayson sighed and reluctantly poured himself more lemonade.  "Sorry, you're right.  I need to calm down."

So they sat in silence and stared at the sky.

"You know what?  I'm done.  I'm done with you telling me what to do.  I'll go off and live my own life.  I don't need your help."

"Julian, Sweetheart, where do you think you're going?"

"I'm going away!  I don't need to listen to your annoying voice bothering me about cleaning this and taking care of that.  You never cared about me, so I don't care about you!"

Julian opened the front door with a bag on his back, which carried as many things as he could fit in it.  Instead of freedom, Julian faced a mail carrier.

"Oh, um... Here you go."  The mail carrier handed Julian the letter that contained news of the Vietnam War draft.

"Grayson, before you go, I want you to know that you should always try to calm down before you accidentally make irrational decisions or say harsh things.  It might seem annoying to place such a rule on yourself, but you'll feel better about yourself.  About everything."

The boy showed no sign of listening, but Julian had done his part.  Grayson was the only one who could make things right for himself.  Julian just hoped that Grayson would listen like he always did before.

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Julian shuffled to the door after hearing a knock, and he found a disheveled Grayson standing there.  He was drenched from the heavy rain, and it was quite dark outside, as well.

"Can I stay here for a while?"

Julian couldn't bring himself to say anything, so he simply nodded and stepped to the side to make way for the twenty-year-old.  The old man handed the younger a towel and gave him some hot chocolate.

They sat in silence, but this time, they didn't stare at the sky that was a gentle blue with cotton candy clouds drifting away.  There was no light breeze that danced around, the wheat stalks and branches of trees swaying along.  It was not a lovely day to sit outside a barn and cloud watch or take a lazy nap.  Julian knew something was wrong, but like always, he didn't know what was right.

"I can't go back, Old Man Julian.  I..."  And the boy sobbed.  Julian sat across from him, but he did not do anything to make the boy feel better.  Grayson was in his reach, but he did not reach out.  Julian tried with all his might to open his mouth or move his hand, but his attempts were in vain.  He tried so hard, but all he could do was stare at the boy who was turning into the young man he once was.

"Old Man Julian, I said things I shouldn't have said.  I did things I shouldn't have done.  I did those things even though you told me not to.  I'm sorry I disappointed you."

'Oh, Grayson.  Sweet, happy Grayson.  You did not disappoint me.  I know how you feel.  You will be okay.  I'll help you in any way I can.'  Julian thought that.  He thought it, but he couldn't say it.  What was wrong with him?!  Why couldn't he help this boy who needed him?

The truck was on a bumpy road.  Soldiers who sat at the edge would get splashed with mud occasionally.  It was hot, humid, and smelly.  The ride was terrible, especially with that one soldier who had motion sickness.  Julian sat between a grumpy soldier and one who was crying.  The one crying was the youngest of the batch, and he was afraid.

"I━ I miss my family.  I miss my sister.  I want to go home.  I━"

"Shut up!  We're soldiers!  We have a mission.  We don't have time to worry about that stuff," Julian sharply whispered with a hint of annoyance.  When he left to leave for Vietnam, he didn't say bye to his family.  He was still mad at them.

The younger soldier went silent for a little bit.  When he stopped sniffling, he whispered, "You must miss them more than me if you're trying to distract yourself like that."

Julian didn't respond.  That soldier died a few missions later.  Julian wished he could apologize and tell the soldier that he was right.

"Grayson."

The boy looked up with puffy eyes.

Julian's words got stuck in his throat.  However, he continued looking straight into Grayson's eyes to make sure he was listening.

"... I don't think anyone blames you for whatever it was you're thinking about.  You said that to me long time ago."

They didn't exchange any words for the rest of the night.  Julian let Grayson sleep in his room while Julian stayed on the couch.

But the next day, Julian woke up to a quiet house and a note from Grayson that said:

"But I blame myself."

And Julian cried because he thought the same thing that day long ago when Grayson was still a sweet, happy child.

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This lowkey didn't end up the way I thought it would, and I hope it doesn't feel too choppy.  However, I'm glad I finished!  I wanted to avoid the cliche sad characteristics that Lina thought of: abuse and death.  (Sorry I forgot the actual list lol.)