SSG Brian F. Piercy
I should have known the man that my brother would become one day. It was always there, just waiting to be seen.
A cool breeze filled the air, carrying with it the scent of crisp smell of the redwood forest. The breeze stirred the branches of the monolithic trees, and brought with it the chirps, squeaks, and cries of the birds and small animals of the Sierra Nevada forest.
“Stay down,” Brian whispered. His somber tone told me something was wrong.
I gravely asked, “What is it?”
“We’re being hunted.”
Brian always knew best; if he said we were being hunted, then something out there was hunting us. At eleven years old, he had so much more experience in the world than my eight years.
“Just stay low and stay quiet. We’re almost at the stronghold.”
We crawled along the forest ground, making as little noise as we could. We probably sounded marginally quieter than a herd of elephants waltzing through a potato chip factory, but in our minds we were as quiet as shadows. We were the last of the brave warriors of the Alliance, and our enemy was before us. We had fought the vile orcs before, and had watched our comrades fall to their swords.
After a long crawl over pine needles, sticks, and small granite rocks, our destination was in sight. An outcropping of giant granite boulders loomed ahead of us. We readied our tree branch swords. Brian had a coiled rope in his hands, ready to use it as a Castlevania-inspired whip in the upcoming attack. We had done this sort of attack before, but not against so many orcs. I readied myself and looked at Brian. Long orangish-brown pine needles stuck out of his blonde-brown hair, and the knees of his jeans were stained with the damp dirt that we had crawled through. He gave me a mischievous grin and mouthed “one, two” and gave a shouted, “THREE!” We stood up and charged the enemy fortress, our high-pitched voices shouting in our most intimidating war cry.
We loved spending time at our cabin playing in the woods and on the giant granite boulders on the property. We would spend hours outside, running and hiding, hunting orcs, slaying mountain lions, and sometimes we would even fly to other planets to conquer them and rule them as kings. After hours of running around, we would retreat indoors for sustenance - candy, soda, and the occasional water. As soon as we had rested and fed, we would head back outside until we so tired that we could barely walk up the stairs to the cabin entrance.
We always had wild adventures at the cabin. Brian was always the strong, confident leader. Even though in regular life he was often quiet and reserved, in our fantasy world he was a strong, confident, battle hardened leader. He always had the best plans and could outsmart the enemy. At the time I attributed these abilities to Brian’s legendary prowess at playing games. He was the best video games player I had ever seen, and so I always equated his imaginary battle skills to his video game abilities. I never realized that I was seeing a natural born warrior, a leader in the making. All I knew was that I was with my best friend, my hero. And I knew, down in my bones, that he was the type of person that I would follow to Hell simply if he asked me.
The other day I was talking to a friend about Brian. I was describing how he was an excellent artist, pianist, gamer, runner, computer programmer, and leader. While I was describing him, I realized that Brian excelled at everything to which he put his mind. I am not saying that he was without his flaws; Brian was picky, fastidious to the point of annoyance sometimes, and could hold a grudge like none other. But when he put his mind to something, he didn’t just succeed; he excelled as though he were born for the task.
I am thankful every day that Brian was in my life, even if it was for such a short while. He was the best friend and brother that any person could ask for.
Proceeds from the SSG Brian F. Piercy bracelet will be donated to Legacies Alive.
I should have known the man that my brother would become one day. It was always there, just waiting to be seen.
A cool breeze filled the air, carrying with it the scent of crisp smell of the redwood forest. The breeze stirred the branches of the monolithic trees, and brought with it the chirps, squeaks, and cries of the birds and small animals of the Sierra Nevada forest.
“Stay down,” Brian whispered. His somber tone told me something was wrong.
I gravely asked, “What is it?”
“We’re being hunted.”
Brian always knew best; if he said we were being hunted, then something out there was hunting us. At eleven years old, he had so much more experience in the world than my eight years.
“Just stay low and stay quiet. We’re almost at the stronghold.”
We crawled along the forest ground, making as little noise as we could. We probably sounded marginally quieter than a herd of elephants waltzing through a potato chip factory, but in our minds we were as quiet as shadows. We were the last of the brave warriors of the Alliance, and our enemy was before us. We had fought the vile orcs before, and had watched our comrades fall to their swords.
After a long crawl over pine needles, sticks, and small granite rocks, our destination was in sight. An outcropping of giant granite boulders loomed ahead of us. We readied our tree branch swords. Brian had a coiled rope in his hands, ready to use it as a Castlevania-inspired whip in the upcoming attack. We had done this sort of attack before, but not against so many orcs. I readied myself and looked at Brian. Long orangish-brown pine needles stuck out of his blonde-brown hair, and the knees of his jeans were stained with the damp dirt that we had crawled through. He gave me a mischievous grin and mouthed “one, two” and gave a shouted, “THREE!” We stood up and charged the enemy fortress, our high-pitched voices shouting in our most intimidating war cry.
We loved spending time at our cabin playing in the woods and on the giant granite boulders on the property. We would spend hours outside, running and hiding, hunting orcs, slaying mountain lions, and sometimes we would even fly to other planets to conquer them and rule them as kings. After hours of running around, we would retreat indoors for sustenance - candy, soda, and the occasional water. As soon as we had rested and fed, we would head back outside until we so tired that we could barely walk up the stairs to the cabin entrance.
We always had wild adventures at the cabin. Brian was always the strong, confident leader. Even though in regular life he was often quiet and reserved, in our fantasy world he was a strong, confident, battle hardened leader. He always had the best plans and could outsmart the enemy. At the time I attributed these abilities to Brian’s legendary prowess at playing games. He was the best video games player I had ever seen, and so I always equated his imaginary battle skills to his video game abilities. I never realized that I was seeing a natural born warrior, a leader in the making. All I knew was that I was with my best friend, my hero. And I knew, down in my bones, that he was the type of person that I would follow to Hell simply if he asked me.
The other day I was talking to a friend about Brian. I was describing how he was an excellent artist, pianist, gamer, runner, computer programmer, and leader. While I was describing him, I realized that Brian excelled at everything to which he put his mind. I am not saying that he was without his flaws; Brian was picky, fastidious to the point of annoyance sometimes, and could hold a grudge like none other. But when he put his mind to something, he didn’t just succeed; he excelled as though he were born for the task.
I am thankful every day that Brian was in my life, even if it was for such a short while. He was the best friend and brother that any person could ask for.
Proceeds from the SSG Brian F. Piercy bracelet will be donated to Legacies Alive.
I should have known the man that my brother would become one day. It was always there, just waiting to be seen.
A cool breeze filled the air, carrying with it the scent of crisp smell of the redwood forest. The breeze stirred the branches of the monolithic trees, and brought with it the chirps, squeaks, and cries of the birds and small animals of the Sierra Nevada forest.
“Stay down,” Brian whispered. His somber tone told me something was wrong.
I gravely asked, “What is it?”
“We’re being hunted.”
Brian always knew best; if he said we were being hunted, then something out there was hunting us. At eleven years old, he had so much more experience in the world than my eight years.
“Just stay low and stay quiet. We’re almost at the stronghold.”
We crawled along the forest ground, making as little noise as we could. We probably sounded marginally quieter than a herd of elephants waltzing through a potato chip factory, but in our minds we were as quiet as shadows. We were the last of the brave warriors of the Alliance, and our enemy was before us. We had fought the vile orcs before, and had watched our comrades fall to their swords.
After a long crawl over pine needles, sticks, and small granite rocks, our destination was in sight. An outcropping of giant granite boulders loomed ahead of us. We readied our tree branch swords. Brian had a coiled rope in his hands, ready to use it as a Castlevania-inspired whip in the upcoming attack. We had done this sort of attack before, but not against so many orcs. I readied myself and looked at Brian. Long orangish-brown pine needles stuck out of his blonde-brown hair, and the knees of his jeans were stained with the damp dirt that we had crawled through. He gave me a mischievous grin and mouthed “one, two” and gave a shouted, “THREE!” We stood up and charged the enemy fortress, our high-pitched voices shouting in our most intimidating war cry.
We loved spending time at our cabin playing in the woods and on the giant granite boulders on the property. We would spend hours outside, running and hiding, hunting orcs, slaying mountain lions, and sometimes we would even fly to other planets to conquer them and rule them as kings. After hours of running around, we would retreat indoors for sustenance - candy, soda, and the occasional water. As soon as we had rested and fed, we would head back outside until we so tired that we could barely walk up the stairs to the cabin entrance.
We always had wild adventures at the cabin. Brian was always the strong, confident leader. Even though in regular life he was often quiet and reserved, in our fantasy world he was a strong, confident, battle hardened leader. He always had the best plans and could outsmart the enemy. At the time I attributed these abilities to Brian’s legendary prowess at playing games. He was the best video games player I had ever seen, and so I always equated his imaginary battle skills to his video game abilities. I never realized that I was seeing a natural born warrior, a leader in the making. All I knew was that I was with my best friend, my hero. And I knew, down in my bones, that he was the type of person that I would follow to Hell simply if he asked me.
The other day I was talking to a friend about Brian. I was describing how he was an excellent artist, pianist, gamer, runner, computer programmer, and leader. While I was describing him, I realized that Brian excelled at everything to which he put his mind. I am not saying that he was without his flaws; Brian was picky, fastidious to the point of annoyance sometimes, and could hold a grudge like none other. But when he put his mind to something, he didn’t just succeed; he excelled as though he were born for the task.
I am thankful every day that Brian was in my life, even if it was for such a short while. He was the best friend and brother that any person could ask for.
Proceeds from the SSG Brian F. Piercy bracelet will be donated to Legacies Alive.