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Arnie quietly stalked through the grassy field. As a relic hunter, he explored the fields of this civil war battlefield nightly. Most people would not accept this job, but Arnie didnít mind. As a relic hunter, one had to be a quick thinker, and keen of eye. Since he had both of these, this job was perfect for him. The most important aspect though, was that one had to keep a calm mind, and not get distracted by the silly superstitions made up about areas such as this..
Tonight though, the air all around the field was filled with a foreboding chill, as mist crept off the ground. Trees seemed to lean towards the center of the field, as if listening to every sound made by the nighttime trespasser. Every now and then, a sharp trill, or low hoot would pierce the silence.
As Arnie collected the small artifacts that littered the ground, his muffled lantern suddenly went out as a gust of wind blew by. He whipped out his matches to relight the lantern, only to find that the lantern was gone.
As he bent down to find his lantern, he saw a faintly lit swirling pillar of mist moving towards him.
As the mist slowly approached, Arnieís normal cool-headedness quickly deteriorated into alarm and panic. He now was rolling on the ground in hope hitting his lantern.
Slowly but surely, the mist crept onwards bit by bit. It was now within a stone throw from the frightened man.
Before he realized what he was doing, Arnie found himself running full tilt from the ghastly mist. About halfway across the field he chanced a glance behind him, but only to find that the specter was only feet behind him. As he ran, ghostly figures could be seen savagely fighting for their lives on the field. Gunshots and mournful cries were carried across the field by a bitter wind. Several loud cannons fired away into the night.
Arnie had almost made it to the edge of the road, when he stumbled and fell. Slowly, Arnie turned around to stare at the ghastly specter that he knew would be floating at his feet. As he looked at the shapeless swirling mist at his feet, it slowly refined itself. Suddenly, the mist surrounding it slowly disintegrated into the air. Eventually, a stern young soldier was left standing in front of Arnie. For the last time in his life, Arnie scanned the abandoned field for an escape. Slowly, his view was drawn back to the soldier in front of him. Very carefully, it slid the ancient rusty rifle off its back, and pulled the trigger.
"We did not choose when we came into this world, and we cannot choose when to leave it. The only thing left for us to decide is what to do with the time that is given to us."