Willkill12
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Unknown Soldier
It’s raining again. I wonder if someone will find me today. But reality's cruel grip chokes the thought, killing it immediately. I’m soaked through. My clothes stick to me like a second skin, like an attempt to hide the horrors inside. I slowly open my eyes and lift my head up and watch the world. It’s a sort of a grey, just like every other day. My back hurts and my hands are red and cold. Fully awake, I try to shut my eyes for as long as possible. Maybe if I hold them shut long enough I’ll wake up to some breakfast. Some other people. Some hope.
I count ten seconds.
Fifteen quickly goes by.
Twenty. Thirty, forty, fifty.
Two hundred seconds go by and the counting begins to scare me as my sanity slips by with every number. Finally, I open my eyes. Nothing. Another piece of my limited supply of life dies. I lift my tired self up. Dark brown mud and rough uneven trenches and the odd clump of dead grass surrounds me before being engulfed in fog. I’m wet with blood and rain. I look down at myself. Stains, some red, others brown cover my beloved uniform. My 3rd division-training badge is ripped and ugly white skin shows itself beneath. I worked so hard to get that badge. Is there any point in putting effort into life when at the end all I have to show for it is a ripped badge? A few broken memories? A handful of dead friends? I feel a wave of nausea. Where are my friends now? They can't have just gone... Why has my team abandoned me? Surely, they've realized I'm no longer there...
"Daz, Jon, Sarj..." I shout into the mist, with all my might calling their names. "Can you hear me? Are you ever going to come back? Don't leave me here..."
The air tingles suddenly. Quickly, I spin my head around. Nothing. The sky seems to buzz with energy. It's never done that before. I lift my rifle up in a form of defence. Another laugh causes me spin round. My foot twists in the mud and I tumble over onto my chest. The air's knocked out of my stomach and pain resides inside me. Gasping for air, I painfully crawl past the mounds of rotting earth and slowly edge myself towards the front of the trench. I carefully lift my head over the top of the trench. I hear an echoed voice. I cock my ears and listen. It's a kind of soft voice but panicky. Sounds like a girl. It's getting louder. I take another step forward.
A gun shot. Panic. I heave myself backwards, away from the noise only to slip backwards in the muck. My back wound rips my side open with agony. I hit the ground with a thud. I clench my eyes shut. A burst of laughter jerks my head upwards. Why it has that effect I don’t know, probably because I haven’t heard laughter in years. Laughter means people and people means hope… The singsong childlike laughter ripples through my head filling me with energy, overpowering the pain. A sudden urge pushes me forward and before I know it I’m on my feet, hurling myself at the trench wall in panic. Fear erupts inside me and I try to climb the trench. I have to find the source of laughter be it for the better or the worse. I can’t do another day without some hope. I have nothing left! Please let there be someone! Anyone! Please.
I start to frantically try to climb the trench with what little energy I have left. The laughing is louder than ever and the isolation and loneliness of my ever going situation mounts up and the idea of seeing something different urges me on. Fear mixes with adrenaline and I manage to haul myself over the top of the mound of earth I’d become so familiar with. I slide forwards part rolling part falling into the next trench, my head wiping against the wet earth. I taste filth. I hit the floor, my empty water canteen digging into my thigh. My body refuses to move anymore and suddenly tired. I shut my eyes and allow myself to lie backwards in the muck. The laughter is gone. I make no attempt to get up. Sick of the world, I close my eyes in an act of rebellion. I curl myself into a ball, and try to laugh like those kids. I’ve got to hear something other than my weak breathing. I can’t. The ‘laugh’ gets caught in my throat, and comes out as a hoarse scream. I give up.
Time passes. An hour, a day, I’m not sure, but when I wake up the fog is gone, and I’ve sunk a couple of inches in to the mud. Again, I lift my head up, but this time I find no fog but a beautiful sunrise in front of me. Never have I seen so much beauty. Reds, oranges and yellows mix like some tropical fruit, and surround the blue sky like a beautiful army of warriors. Healthy warriors. Warriors with leaders and friends and hope...
I look away from the sunset and to my left. A figure is waiting, not over the trench, but across it, horizontally. It’s but a silhouette, and I’m still cold and hurting and doubting but, like the laughter the promise of a something different pushes me on as I haul my self up and try to walk through the knee-deep mud towards the figure. It looks like… It looks like my grandmother… The air is still tingling and I feel stronger. My grandmother would be glad to see me like this, not giving up. Would it be false hope? Would it taunt me for a while then abandon me, just like everyone else? No, my grandmother wouldn’t do that. Never. Is it just my madness and hunger driving my mind to give it some reason to live? I pray not.
Walking is difficult, my body weighs me down, and I’m moving too fast for my feet. Walking clumsily and awkwardly, I nearly fall over several times. I lean forward my eyes only on the next step in front of me. It stops me seeing the figure, but I’m worried she will disappear before I get there. Tiredness sets in, in another attempt to stop me. But still I plough on; unaware of the madness of my mind that surrounds me. A laugh develops in my throat; once again it turns to a scream. The frustration mounts up and causes the scream to not die but get stronger. All my anger and frustration of the world comes out in one big scream. The strength of my voice pushes me forwards. Turning to a run, the air tingling and the laughter starting up again, the light of the sun envelops me, and suddenly I can run, easily. Inside my head, my worries are gone and I can see my grandmother. There’s no mud or hunger or tiredness to hold me down and I finally open my wings and fly away from it all. But where will I land?
What can I see? I can see... Lights. Eyes. People. Shouts. Panic... Oh no...
Suddenly, I'm on my feet and my world is spinning around out of control. Madness and chaos surrounds me and for a moment I hear nothing but a faint buzzing. Then the air comes alive and engulfs me. Screams, not from me but from soldiers, people I know. Faces I thought I’d forgotten re-appear and it scares the life out of me. But it also thrills me. This is where I belong.
Gun shots in front to my left and right and behind me. The shouts and frantic words hustling and bustling through the air almost knock me off my feat. An unknown soldier is thrown through the air in front of me, with only one leg. Blood and earth splatters me and I’m nearly knocked off my feat. I feel myself stumbling forward, still in my uniform still with my gun at hand still with my blood on my back. Nothing changes. Pushing forward, I jump over a trench, landing firmly on my feet. A soldier comes towards me with a gun. Instinct takes over and my itchy trigger finger takes control and I pull the trigger.
The power of the bullet ripples through the air. I see the bullet as it powers through the man's chest. No mercy. The soldier jerks his head back before being pushed by the impact over the trench, tumbling to his death. Filled with confidence I rush forward hungry for more. I jump over a whole trench taking a forward roll on the ground lifting my head up, ready for the worst.
But it's only children. Seven of them, standing in the trench in front of me, standing perfectly still. Despite the gunshots, crying soldiers and bombs and helicopters above them here they stand, alone yet peaceful. They look grim and I stop in my tracks watching them. Gunshots and explosions still fill the air around me, but both the children and myself are hypnotized. I look at the children, dressed in dirty browns, whites and pinks. Hair tied in a bun and fringes slicked back, they almost look beautiful. But they’re sadness of their expression fills me with fear. So cold, so alone, so forlorn. Life drained out half dead they serve no purpose. Poor children...
Suddenly the air buzzes and I blink. The children are gone all I can hear is laughing. I let out a roar and I feel all consuming anger. This is not how a war is supposed to be! Children belong in the country, not here! And why are they laughing? How dare they come into my battle and laugh at me?
I rush forward, gun in hand. I reach for the trigger and hold it down. Bullet rip out, the sound slicing through the air. I like the sound. It's sound of power and purpose. I'm in control. Still running with fake confidence I hurl myself into a trench just as a bomb smashes into the earth only 10 meters away from me. Still I hold the trigger and I see a final bullet tear out before I feel a rush of air followed by blackness followed by pain engulf me and I feel myself being thrown off my feet. Then the blackness overpowers the pain I fall into what seems like nothingness.
I open my eyes for the thousandth time. I’m on a floor. A wooden one. There is no noise, only a slight buzzing, which slowly disappears. I’m tired but not hurt and for once I‘m dry not wet. I sigh. It feels good. I try not to remember the past. Now seems better.
I get up slowly. I breathe the air. I can smell something. It’s a scent I can’t quite picture but it’s a nice one. Better than the smell of rot back in the past. Or future? I try not to think about it. I feel slightly tired but otherwise fine. I walk to the door. It’s wooden just like the wall and floor. I push it open and I find an old woman perched near a stove frying up some food. I’m not sure what it is, but it smells gorgeous. The door closes behind me and the woman turns towards me.
“Hello,” she says. I like her voice and I like the sound. ‘Hello’. So simple yet so happy. I try to smile and to my amazement I manage it.
“You’re home.” Home? Memories, blurred, fly through my head and I don’t recoil. I allow the memories to flood through me giving me strength as I realise the world isn’t nearly such a bad place as I thought it was.
“I thought you weren’t coming back.” She smiles again. Relief hits me and I realize how lucky I am. I’m alive. Nothing can take that away.
“Sit down if you like. I’ve found you something nice.”
Slowly I sit down on a wooden chair. The chair is comfortable and smells nice. There’s a wooden table in front of me, oak I think, and it feels warm when I touch it. There’s a window above the table and sunshine flows through hitting my face and hugging it.
Then the old lady comes towards me with a plate of food. There’s some pink paper like food and some white and yellow gooey stuff. I don’t know what it is, but I know I’m safe so I quickly pick up some of the pink paper like food, and taste it. It tastes good. Really good. I take another bite and the taste and smell surrounds me and I feel great and wonderful.
I take another bite and I realize I’m strong and powerful and most importantly, I’m happy. The old lady was right. I’m home. Nothing can hurt me now. I stand up and look out of the window. There’s mud and mounds of earth as far as the eye can see. It’s beautiful. There’s mist flowing through the air and I watch it. Poor mist. I feel sorry for the mist. The ground is saturated with dirty water and there’s blood on the ground. Blood? I feel a slight wave of nausea pass though me, but I resist it. Nothing can hurt me. I’m omnipotent, unstoppable, and stronger than any man. I shut the window. Or do I? Everything is becoming blurry. I suddenly realize my eyes are shut but I can still see the old woman and she's smiling. She's proud of me.
Then air tingles. I try to open my eyes. The air is cold and I can smell death. It doesn’t scare me. Nothing can. I still feel great as I feel the wet earth from the trench under my back, triggering pain from my back wound. Nothing can hurt me. Still I’m strong as the smell of rotten flesh and isolation choke me. Nothing can hurt me. I open my eyes. I fight back with the strength of many men and I can see things clearly now. My breathing is ragged and I’m starving. So what? Nothing can hurt me. I’m freezing and trembling violently, squeezing the life out of me. Is this it? Is this all life can throw at me?
Laughter begins in a cruel manor, but it doesn’t affect me. I ignore it and realise that I’m too powerful for this cruel game. Laughs? So what? Pain? I can deal with that. Nothing can overcome my happiness and inside my mouth I can still taste the wonderful food. Children’s laughing is hardly going to scare me. I’m past that now. I’m ahead of these stupid attempts to destroy my mind. Nothing can hurt me. I’m as happy and as powerful as anyone can be. No, more. The sun is high above me and I’m too powerful for the sun. The sun can’t hurt me. Nothing can. All my life I’ve been following other people and their orders. Now I’m finally free.
I challenge the sun to a staring contest, and stare into its fiery gaze. The whiteness and the ferocity of the suns gaze soothes me and as everything begins to go white, not black. I manage to let out a laugh. So long cruel world, you’ll never catch me now.
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< Message edited by Willkill12 -- 12/9/2009 15:10:07 >
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