Metaphors of Impressment

The children heard the sudden gritty rubbery traction sound of approaching tyres and leapt off the narrow woodland path with only a second to spare as a sleek bike thundered past at full tilt, riderless yet with a crash helmet sat on it's seat, the pedals blurred like propellers

The riderless bicycle spun toward us as it stopped, scattering forest rocks. The helmet just sat there on the seat. The children looked to one another then back at the bike. Jasper began to cry. His older brother had told him about a child lost while biking in the woods.

Until now, he had always assumed that, like most stories, it was pure fiction designed to thrill and excite. But this was a whole new level of thrilling. This was real and happening. The empty bike remained where it was, but he couldn’t pretend he didn’t hear the footsteps coming

from behind him, shaking the ground with synchronized stomps. He was at the center of a modern city and yet- he turned around to see the legion upon legion of soldiers all dressed in full ceremonial uniform. Everyone else just slipped by like blind passerby as he gaped. It was

awe inspiring and surreal in equal measures. I need a drink he thought. At once a passing legionnaire handed him a leather flask without breaking stride and continued. Shocked, he took a long pull. It was pleasant but he felt the brew compel him to turn and join the march.

Where were they going? He didn't know. He wanted to ask the man next to him, but the drink had locked his jaw closed. Suddenly, he wanted out of this march, but it was as if his body was on autopilot. He couldn't stop or change course. This was a march to the death for them all.