A creative writing piece
I am inside my head, trying to sift through and delete memories of fights. I try to pinpoint the area in my brain that holds the images. I try to stop the flow of blood to it, so that I can forget, but I cannot. The images come once again.
It’s a simple village, and shouldn’t be the concern of those who have weapons and technology far greater than mud huts and clay pots. But they are in the way and won’t move from their homes. They have consistently attacked our camps, effectively killing nearly one-fourth of our group.
Our orders include men, women and children.
We raid the village, all hoping they will surrender but knowing they will not.
I kick a residential door down, thin and easily broken. No match for the army’s boots and their training.
A small child with a happy smile looks straight at me before her father comes at me with a kitchen knife. Her mother screams and cries, as if she had been praying for the door to keep us out, and has just realized that it would not.
The child still smiles, but more hesitantly now, scared by the cries of her parents.
He is still coming at me with a knife, and fire and rage in his eyes.
I would see through those eyes if someone were coming after my family.
I shoot him before he can reach me, careful to keep my face blank and my eyes dry.
The mother screams, and the child begins to wail. She runs at me, and I am about to lower my gun, when another goes off beside me.
The blood splashes onto the child’s face.
The child isn’t smiling anymore. She wails as she tries to get the red out of her eyes, rubs harder and harder, but only succeeds in pushing the sting deeper.
I raise my gun one final time.
There is a parade going on in the world beyond my thoughts. A gunshot brings me back into it.
They are saluting us by shooting bullets into the air.
I look down and see eyes watching me.
A small child with a happy smile throws a rose.
I know I am not the superhero she sees in be, because I feel like the villain.
So I retreat back into my head, and the process starts again.