View Full Version : A very short story

02-27-14, 07:50 PM
Some times a man must do what he has to even though he does not want to. These words rang like echoes in my mind. As I stood there looking over the boy in front of me helpless running towards me strapped with explosives. My commanding officer yelling at me to shoot him while my fellow soldiers frozen and grim with fear as this crying boy runs closer and closer I feel the sweat pouring down my face as the loud noise of gun shots in the distance muffle the boys cryingÖand for a moment I feel nothing. Just cold pale nothing. Not fear or terror, not rage or pain or anger. I stare the boy right in the face and do what must be done. I fire my weapon and he is thrown back into the snow. Lifeless. My commanding officer gives me a pat on the back but that feeling is still there. I think as a soldier, after youíve killed your first man or child you think maybe itís all a dream, maybe that feeling will go away. Maybe I can truly live a happy life one day and I will wake up and be at home. Or when this is all over all these memories will fade in the past and none of it will matter and I will enjoy life again and drink iced tea in the hot sun. But no, a soldier finds out that there is no going back from that. There is no undoing the pain that has been done. The pain of war. The machinations of war have raged for thousands of years for mankind, and no soldier is different but no war is the same. Each one however, has left itís terrible scar on mankind. Why? I wonder. Why do we do it. Why do we march to kill their people while they march to kill ours. What hatred do I have for these people? I couldnít think for long before my commander started screaming at me to get back in the war. There's killing to be done. No time for thinking. A good soldier doesnít think. He doesnít question. He obeys and reacts. He does what he must do. What all men must do when faced with death. Fight or dieÖFight or die.. This is the mantra of war. WarÖI ******* hate war.*
January 17th 2220
We marched on. We marched till my feet hurt beyond blisters and bruises. Beyond cold and frost bite. We marched till blood poured from my socks and I could feel the bones starting to rub against dead flesh. It didnít matter. Nothing mattered anymore. I couldnít feel pain or fear. I couldnít feel anything at all. Just the reactions of what I must do. Feelings are left at home one might say. You leave everything behind including fear. The physical pain you feel starts to feel good because it distracts you from something far worse creeping in your mind. Like a poison. Iíve seen men break down to it. Iíve seen them fall one by one to this poison. Eventually it goes from the mind to the hands. They shake, uncontrollably they shake. As if the cold of death haunted them every day. They arenít worth **** anymore. They canít shoot or aim. They donít send them home however. When a commanding officer sees a soldier has lost his mind itís that commanding officers job to make sure he is taken from the group. Fear and insanity are contagious in war like the plague. Some officers are merciful and send them out into the wilderness where enemies and god knows what else is out there waits for them. Others just line them up and shoot them to make an example out of them for the men. One thing is always certain, when a soldiers mind breaks he must leave. I almost broke once. That day when I shot that boy. Something did break inside me that day, but it wasnít my mind, it was my heart. My ability to feel, itís gone.**What the hell is happening?

February 27th 2220*
When we reached the town all I could hear were the screams. The cries of the prisoners as they were made into pyres to keep the victors warm. I watched them burn one by one. I was glad not to do it myself because the smell was unbearable up close. When I watched though it was strange, they seemed to at first be afraid and in pain and then for a moment they looked happy and free. I began to envy the dead because the dead truly felt nothing. I felt only half dead in some ways. A corpse walking the earth to slay other men. I felt like a monster. War turns men into monsters.**
March 16th 2220
My mind often tries to forget and remember the past all at once. A war rages inside my head while my body carries out its orders. I think about how all this started, I try to think how I got here in the first place. What sort of madness could have convinced me to sign up for this. I look down at my hands..they begin to shake. I stuff them in my pockets so no one sees. I must stay alive, itís all I feel and all I know now. Itís the purpose I swear by. Stay alive. Some times war brings us closer to our animal natures. And as your humanity is stripped away layer by layer only the instincts remain. Itís all I know now. Stay alive.

07-05-14, 01:45 PM
I walked further from my camp. I went to take a **** but before I knew it I was walking farther. I looked back, no one noticed or cared. Everyone looked so down trodden, so weary and just tired. They all were on the verge of breaking, perhaps I could have just convinced them all to leave with me but the risk was too high. Only one thing keeps men from running in war, and that's fear of honor. I looked back one last time and to my surprise, nothing, not one dog bark, not a sound. No one was chasing me and I felt a ping of what came closest to joy I've ever felt. I think back to why I never ran before until now, the answer alludes me.

What else could I do now but walk...I walked like I had walked all those many miles before, but this time to my own drum. It was the most free I had ever felt in my life. For the first time, I saw the sun shine. I made a promise to myself, I would never shoot another living being. I can't atone for what I've done, but I can try to keep what little is left of my humanity. I wasn't fighting to stay alive I was fighting for my soul.

But from here, where do I go? Only the road knows. I'll walk through hell to find peace, no matter how long it takes me, I have nothing left to lose. I'll die trying to find sanity in this rabid world.