A Thousand Deaths


I rise up from the unforgiving ground. Bullets whizzing all around. Not a scratch on me. I start to run only to be cut down by the snipper in the second story bedroom window. This is not the fist time I have died this day, this encounter, this campaign.

My death count now stands at 10. Again I rise up from the same spot. No mark on me or my clothes. Nothing but the memory of the death I just suffered. Urbane war fair, never an easy thing. I run and make it to the shelter of the house in front of me. I'm not alone I see him just in time to shoot and kill him. the body slumps to the floor. A moment latter it vanishes. As it does I hear the laughter of a child. I head up stairs for a better vantage point. I'm greeted by someone in the bedroom who shoots and kill me.

I rise again perfect health. Gun in hand I make a run for it. A grenade at my feet.

Once more I die and live. I make it to the house again. I kill three people. This time, before I'm torn apart by attack dogs. I hear the laughter. I rise to fight again.

It never ends. This cycle of life and death. This hellish nightmare I can't escape from. There is no winning. Only die fewer times than someone else. Day after day and night it's the same thing. This hell I have been sent to, the laughter of a faceless adversary. The rifles, hand guns, knives, grenades The life and death of so many looked upon and nothing more than the game of a child. I wonder, how many more times will I have to die.

a thousand deaths

Posted by admin on March 29, 2015