I stood absolutely still, frozen to the spot. I starred at the crumpled figure that lay before me. His blood was covering the soft grass with sticky red. It poured out of the deep slash across his throat. His unblinking brown eyes stared lifelessly up at the sky. I didn't know him, he seemed a year younger than I. I didn't know him, and I killed him. The crimson liquid dripping off my knife was proof enough of that. He wasn't my first kill, this war was too brutal for that, but I had never killed with my knife before. It was usually from a distance with a gun. Never before had I been close enough to see the life leave the eyes of someone I killed, someone I murdered. I turned, all around me the fight was raging. Knifes sinking into soft flesh, the clang of steel against steel as swords were wielded, gunpowder in the air and shots firing in the background. People were falling left and right. My people, their people, people. The reality hit me hard. We were kids! We were too young for this, were just kids! The sun beat furiously upon us, as if it sensed our wrong. I gazed up. The sky was a blood-red, a mirror of our battleground. A shot rang close by and I turned in time to see one of my own fall. I knew him. He was sixteen, just like me. My grip on my blade tightened and I reached for the gun at my hip. I had to fight. They killed us, we killed them. For freedom, for life, for love. For this I will fight, for them I will fight, for them I will kill. They are me. We will fight.
This is War
December 4, 2011