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Danger Zone: Trouble in Kosovo (Entirely Fictional) Matthew was on a ship by the next day, steaming to Kosovo. The USA was a poised cobra, sure to bite. Now the cobra was awaiting the perfect opportunity to strike. The fangs were open, and poison did they hold; indeed, now it was too late for them to fold. The hour had struck, and the order given.
The battleground was a chaotic place. A place that soon lost its "prospect." Many people that had enlisted recently were on a quest for heroism. When they saw what was ahead of them…
"Why?" thought Matthew sitting alone in the field of death. "Why do people think that violence and terror will bring peace? It has been done before. World War I, World War II, Vietnam, Desert Storm all famous raids and wars that were supposed to achieve peace. Instead, they cost lives, several lives that would have been spared otherwise. Lives are drained because of war and peace never comes. We always think it will, but it never does." Shouts echoed throughout the field. People charged at each other like cannibals. Gunfire rang out at a frequent pace. There were thumps of people falling, and there were groans. The emotion of the image could never be conveyed in words. People ran nowhere. Most were still alive, breathing, but all had died on the inside. The people that had enlisted recently and even the veteran’s souls had been crushed. They had perished on the inside. The fight still continued, pointless as it was, it still was an intense one. The rage boiled inside both sides. They no longer hated each other. They hated life. They were angry at everything. They were angry at everything that had happened and everything that they knew would happen. The fight was only now truly beginning. Matthew was angry too. His eyes were wet, and his clothes were covered in blood. He could not think. His brain was no longer in action. His arms raised, his fingers squeezed. The action was automatic. The noises were no longer heard. The images ahead of him were no longer images. They were a blur, unintelligible figures moving with no logic, no order. As he lifted his arm again he saw a blur moving toward him. Without thinking, he shouted "Take me!" He threw his gun waiting for a blow. The blur continued toward him, and he felt the impact. The rage that had been inside the "blur" so long had come out. The impact knocked Matthew to the ground. He had heard his bones crack. As he fell the pain became unbearable, and throbbed everywhere in his body. Thump… Darkness… Matthew watched as the dust settled. He watched, clueless as to what had happened. He watched, his eyes wide. He watched with utter confusion. He looked blankly at the horrible spectacle before his eyes. Before him lay severed bodies. Debris was strewn all over the place. There were few still alive. Few still moving, but they too were dazed, dazed at the spectacle of death. People lay twisted in warped shapes. Their blank eyes stared at the survivors, no expression, no feeling. The color was gone from their bodies. Their faces were ashen, white with fear, the fear of life and the fear of death. Matthew sat on something smooth. He did not care what it was. His head still ached; sore from the blow he had received. "That godforsaken enemy!" he muttered as he nursed his wound… * Note: This short story is meant to convey the cycle of war. It has never stopped, but it is in our power to stop it. The paragraph where Matthew thinks about what war accomplishes, is my feeling about this subject. We must break this cycle.* Date posted: November 15, 1998. What do you think about this? |