TITLE: Gray Mist Soldiers
GENRE: MG Historical Adventure
Waves crashed against the craggy cliffs of Torrey Pines State Beach, sending flecks of spray high into the air, like spit. Peter tugged at his tight shirt collar. The sun had begun to burn through the clouds, making the occasion seem happy, instead of what it was. He preferred the gloomy mist.
Mom called him over. They were starting. With his head bent to avoid everyone's sorrowful stares, Peter slowly shuffled along the cliff's edge to join his brothers around the phony urn.
The minister started blabbing. Peter stared at the ground, and listened instead to the restless waves. One by one, his brothers stepped forward to grasp a fist of sand from the 'urn'. Jeff cleared his throat, and spoke with a husky voice out of place with his seventeen-year-old face. His solemn words were appropriate, and heartfelt. Jeff turned away from the crowd and stepped to the edge of the bluff, releasing the sand over the side. It drifted peacefully out of sight. Stephen was next. He said something funny, but inappropriate. Mom smacked his arm in a warning. He flung his sand out to the ocean. A gust of wind tossed it back in his face. Stephen cursed, which got him another warning smack. It was Derek's turn. He uttered an almost inaudible goodbye, and let the sand sift through his fingers into a pile at his feet. Peter was the youngest, and always last. He stepped forward, the vast sea stretching out before him.