I am a soldier, and this is war.

My heart thuds in my chest to the beat of my quickened breath. I clumsily brush my face free of the sweat drenched hair that covers it, as a large sum on salvia gulps down my throat. My posture mirrors one of a cat crouching in hiding. I stay hidden from what will either be my prey or my predator. An uncertainty I am about to reveal. I try to stay statue still but I can’t help but shake in the presence of the unknown I am about to face. Will I survive? These kinds life threatening questions dart about inside of my overrun mind. They ricochet off the walls, grasping my attention each time they hit. I raise my muddied hand to my forehead, in a pathetic attempt to erase the thoughts. I must stay focused. I must be ready. My life depends on it.

The ground I am hunched over apon is saturated by the rainfall of the past few days. Each tiny raindrop has contributed to turning this innocent bare ground into a dangerous pool of the earths secret minerals. I try to keep above surface, but I can feel the sludge harden on the parts of my skin that were not so lucky. As if the heavens some how knew of my task the rain has cleared and instead the radiant sun beats down on me. This doesn’t help in keeping my rising temperature at ease but at least I shall be able to see my target. Missing is a risk I am not willing to take.

A silent count down starts inside my head - 10, 9, 8, 7, 6 - triggering the fact I have been prolonging for some time. I have to do this. 5, 4, 3, 2, 1. Now. I peer out from behind the collection of bushes. At first it is hard to see past the protruding fiery reds, and burnt oranges of the autumn leaves, but then I see him; my target. He looks around, his eyes darting about in a manic way. He scans the hostile environment, trying to keep his confident and collected nature in tact. However I see through his act. He is nervous. He knows just as well as I what is ahead. I have to move now or else this valuable chance may slip from my clasp. I ready myself for action.

I shuffle my coal black pistol around in my hand, trying to find a comfortable position for it to sit. I look down at the piece of mass destruction. It shall never feel like home to hold an object that has such power over human life. Maybe I should turn back. Maybe I should retreat. Maybe this war is not for me. I could not possibly take others life. “No,” I tell myself. I thrust my doubt out into the heated air and breathe deeply. I know deep down that this has to be done. I have to do it.

Before my doubts have time to override my system again I leap out from my safe haven and into the enemies direct fire. A cacophony of voices, and firing weapons invade my once silent world. I feel my forefinger latch around the pistols trigger and as I do I raise it out in front of me. “Do it, shoot,” my mind eggs me on. Then it hit me. My breath escapes my lungs as if fleeing from my falling body. I wave my arms frantically, trying to keep myself from plummeting into the darkness. A silent yelp passes through my cracked lips. My last breath. I am a solider, and I died for my country.


“BANG, BANG, you’re dead,” the enemy taunts as I rise to my feet, picking up my toy pistol.

“Hey! That wasn’t fair,” I retaliate. I huff out my frustration. “I don’t want to play this stupid game anymore.”