One day two ants carried their loads on their backs. These were regular ants that you’d find on your kitchen table, coming from an unseen opening in the wall. On their backs, they carried a dead bug, their golden meal ticket. The dead bugs were at least three times their size, massive. Going with the flow of thousands of others, they lugged the prize. One seemed to have a red tinge on the black-shelled body. The other ant was as black as deep night. Both seemed to race each other toward the main entrance of the ant hill.

The black one tripped the red one. The red ant dropped it’s meal. With no thought of revenge, it picked up the dead bug and continued on its way. The flow of ants out of the hill slowed the black one, allowing red to catch up.

The stream of incoming ants intersected into its path. Both had to climb above, then around, then pushed their way toward the main entrance of the ant hill. First black was ahead. Then red budged its way first. A wind blew, forcing both to drop their treasured meal. They scrambled to reclaim their packages.

Again, both trudged on, racing their way into the cavernous entrance. Once they entered, the tunnels narrowed, and the massive dead bugs scraped against the ceiling. It was loud and the sound of trains leaving and entering the tunnels blared. The ants lowered the weight right on their backs, making the trip through the tunnels harder. Thousands of others traveled up. Foot steps vibrated the floors. Black pushed through, passing red. Red was pummeled back, but it climbed above the others and flew by black. The trip made harder when the tunnels angled up. Each stair was taken one step at a time.

The opening came into view. A bright light shined down. The blue sky marked the finish line. Red made a push to pass the black ant. Black shove the red against the railing. Red grasped its prize and pulled itself up, digging its feet down and plunging forward. The end of the tunnel fast approached. Black and red edged each other, and it was hard to tell who was first. Thousands of ants poured out of the tunnel, and the cold air of their city greeted them. Narrow bands of the blue sky framed by massive sky scrapers. I shifted my backpack on red sweater, walked onto the street, entered my building, and logged on my computer. The day droned on as normal.

What do you think? Is loyalty something we need? If you ask most guys who are in a monogomous relationship, they’ll say yup. Then why in both life and fiction we see cheating as an explored theme? Look at the show Desperate Housewives.

What if you’re commanding an army? Is loyalty needed? That would be a hell yeah! Without it the commander’s army would fall into chaos.

In friendships loyalty is important. My best friend and I are both writers, and when we read each others work we’re also honest. We’re honest because our friendship is strong enough to withstand honesty. Because if your friendship is built on niceties, then that house of cards is easily destroyed.

I can tell a lot by reading a person’s level of loyalty. Do people invite you to things for their own reasons, or do they leave you out to fend for yourself? Do people call you if they need you or just because. Seeing the differences can tell you a lot about a person’s character. And when I write, I do everything that I can to infuse physical and conversational elements to communicate their level of loyalty. I think this technique can be called foreshadowing because I am foreshadowing what the character might do when put between a rock and a hard place.

Stories like Braveheart and Bridge on the River Kwai explore the theme of loyalty well.