Victim of the war, Dhoha Kliban [classic novels .TXT] 📗

I can no longer fell the heat, no longer see the sun, no longer hear the bangs. Now I'm one of the lost, one of the forgotten. One no one will remember, and no one knew existed.

But now we'll go back in time. To the time, where some men with uniforms broke into our house. They threw my mom to the away, and grabbed my dad. They beat him down and kicked him. His blood flowed on the carpet floor. They broke every bone in his body. My mom couldn't do anything. She wiped and wiped. Dad just layed on the floor, all bloody and tormented. Then when of the men grabbed dads hair, and lifted him up. Another took up his rifle and shot. One shot in the head and he was gone. Gone forever. The men left our house, and I was left with my mom. And poor little me. All ignorantly of what just happened around me, I just stood and stared.

My mom threw herself over my dads bloody corpse and wiped. One word kept ringing in my head - gone. That was the only thing I understood of the situation. I didn't understand why the men killed my dad. But this experience, showed and learned me among others, that not everyone gets a reason for an act. Another important thing. One my mom learned me, several days after my dads death was: "Life is unfair." You have to live with the upcoming. You must get used to deaths presence. You have to wait patiently for your turn. Yes the days went, the weeks flew, and the months disappeared. We got poor, thrown out of the house. No home and no family. It was always dad that got us food. Mom couldn't get a job, because she didn't have an education. It was expensive, and her family didn't have any money. So because of that reason we are sitting here on the ground, in the hot sun emits. All sweaty, completely dirty, hungry and thirsty we are begging for food. We earned nothing. Nobody would give us money. They were in need themselves. Several days after, when we had not eaten anything other than food from the trashcan and drunk from river, my mom got sick. She couldn't eat, not sleep. She nearly didn't speak anymore. By the time she got weaker and weaker. One night she finally fell asleep. Or maybe she didn't, because the next day she wasn't there anymore. There was only a corpse. No soul, no occupant.

I couldn't do anything than leaving the corpse. Maybe she would get picked up one day. If people dared. Because by the time, gangs began to plug bombs in lifeless bodies, so when people picked the bodies, the bomb bursts. Other times, some men stood some few feet away from the corpse, and kept an eye if people would pick it up. If someone was so unlucky to have a good heart, and pick the body so it wouldn't pollute the air more, or that someone would give the body a propal funeral, the men shot them. It was pure evilness that ruled in the fragile streets. Pure evilness lurked behind every corner.

Since my dad left this terrible world, I have constantly night after night, had nightmares about him. I experienced him die, every time I felt into my restless sleep. I began to steal, to survive. My faith vanished. I did no longer believe, in the existence of God. No longer in miracles. My point of view changed by the time. I began to only see the bad, only to see the evilness that lurked in every human being. I could feel it in a distance. I no longer knew what it was I lived for. I did no longer know what I was for. I couldn't feel anymore. Nor see with colors. For me this world was black and white.

I have heard of people that was treated worse than me. Much worse. But where did they go? Did they die while they were seeking revenge? Did they lose their composure? Did they commit suicide? But never have I heard of one committing suicide. No matter how unfairly you were treated, you didn't commit suicide. You didn't die for nothing. The painful life you've been through makes you want to make a difference. If you want to commit suicide, you don't do it just because you don’t want to live anymore. You do it, while taking other peoples lifes with you. The enemies’ life.

But yes, I got used to steal, used to take other peoples rights, used to see corpses, used to hear the comps bruise and take several human lifes along, used to hear cry, used to see murder. I have not become anything else than a walking body. I discovered it was a war. A war between countries, a war between neighbors and a war between the family. A war that was caused by the black gold had formed to a war with no meaning. The evilness has taken over our souls and made us bloodthirsty. But no longer do I want to live. And I want to die together with my enemies. Down to the black nothing. The world would be better known without them. So I got a bomb. It wasn't hard to find. You could get them anywhere.

I got it free, when I told the seller I wouldn’t alone meet the Death, but take my hated enemies along. I took the chance right when it came. A tank was rolling through the terrified streets. People fled. Some reached safety, others where shot like wild animals. When the streets were emptied of humans, I walked out of my hiding place. While I was walking towards the tank, I breathed the last time and fired the bomb without hesitation. I saw the fire, I saw the colors, I saw the memories of the life I used to live, with the father that bringed us food. With the mother that cared for me and taught me the rules of life. Goodbye you tormented world. Maybe this will all end up happily ever after. If happiness does exist. Because I can’t remember the feeling, if I have ever tried it. But now I’m gone. A meaningless life, I do not know if it was. But my turn is now over. And the next person is standing ready to experience the same as me. If not worse.

Publication Date: 05-30-2011

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