I Am A Soldier

Excellence Award in the 'Top Secret 2016' competition

The little girl was covered in ash, her grass green eyes shining with tears as she tugged at her fathers bloodied, dust covered shirt. She was screaming. Her leg lay about three meters away from her, positioned in almost unthinkable angles. The girl’s father? Shot. By me. Her village. Gone. Because of me. She was looking at me. Those eyes full of accusation and tears directed at me. My fault. The girl fell to the ground and started to convulse, her eyes in the back of her head. All I could do was stand and watch. Helplessly. I kept a blank face as she cried, screamed, convulsed and shivered all at the same time. That’s what the trained me for. Although inside they couldn’t know what I was thinking. They couldn’t tell that I was screaming as well. Her screams and my screams both together in my head. I pulled my hair and shook my hands and screamed and cried and reached out to her. But I didn’t. The battalion marched on, leaving me standing in a field of guilt, murder, sorrow and smouldering ruins. I walked to the girl and leant next to her. She was still crying. Stop, I thought to myself. Stop or I will end you right here right now and you won’t need to cry anymore and it will all be over and you will go wherever you go when you have that relief of death and despair. Stop! I pulled my gun out and held it to her head. Of course that would make her cry even more. Stupid. I tried to leave. To go with my battalion. To leave the girl and her dead father behind and forget that they were once breathing, talking, laughing. I couldn’t leave her. Not when she was still alive. Crying, still. I realised my hand was almost white as the fingers clamped the handle of the gun. My other hand clawed at the top layer of flesh on my leg. I lowered the gun. My lungs were burning. I pulled a vial of poison out of my pack. This poison would send her into a calm sleep that she would never wake up from. I pulled her mouth open and forced it down her throat. The girl screamed and cried even more. She my tears. The tears I couldn’t cry myself. This is my fault. I am a soldier. This is the price I have to pay.

FOLLOW US


25

Write4Fun.net was established in 1997, and since then we have successfully completed numerous short story and poetry competitions and publications.
We receive an overwhelming positive feedback each year from the teachers, parents and students who have involvement in these competitions and publications, and we will continue to strive to attain this level of excellence with each competition we hold.

KEEP IN TOUCH

Stay informed about the latest competitions, competition winners and latest news!