The sweat quickly rolled off his brow, coordinating itself with the ear shattering explosions and screams of the wounded: a perfect cause and effect situation. He proceeded to advance slowly in an area where seconds turned to hours and inches became miles. Keeping his head down, he breathed nervously and carefully, for the air was now filled with flesh eating projectiles possessing a Kamikaze conscience. Staying low to the ground, he mimicked an alligator’s movement, grasping tightly in his hands a survival kit that donned an M-16 disguise with sights. So this is war. An adrenaline rush with a side effect of a nervous breakdown doused in “Be all that you can be” statements. However, this soldier enjoyed the high he gets out of battle, and he takes a “For Democracy” morning-after pill to succumb any hangover that might instill. And amongst this sensory overload, in the middle of this blood sport, one explosion drowned out the environment killing the already murdered screams of men and the banshee shrieks of the lead. As he glanced over his shoulder, everything slowed down to a dead stop, as though God hit the pause button. The soldier sat there staring at the metallic beast, which was close enough to kiss him on the forehead, but instead just beared its teeth in anticipation of the fulfillment of its purpose.
A bright, white light blinded him, and once he opened his eyes again, he saw that he was no longer on the battlefield. No blood, no guns, no enemy. He scanned the horizon for any sign of life, and found nothing to match that of an Earthly society.
“Do you have any food?”
“What the-?” The soldier spun around to find an aged homeless man sitting down who seems to have befriended Desolation very well. “Where am I, old man?”
“Do you have any food?” the old man repeated.
“No,” the soldier pushed a satchel at his side behind himself in an inconspicuous manner, “I don’t. Now tell me where I am.”
“You are heading for Heaven or for Hell. Your destination is dependent upon what you do and say here. A form of your purgatory if you will.”
“You’re lying!” The soldier fell to the ground; the news weakened his knees. He buried his face into his hands.
“And you lied to me about not having any food, why can’t I do the same?!?” the man said angrily.
“Fine.” The soldier turned his satchel around back to his side, opened it up and pulled out an MRE to give to the man. “Here. Now tell me. Am I dead?”
The man tossed the package aside. “No… not yet, at least.”
“Who are you?”
“My name is Forgotten By Society, but people around here call me Matthew. I am merely a messenger from the afterlife.”
The soldier replied, “I thought messengers were supposed to be beautiful and celestial beings.”
“Beauty comes in many shapes and sizes,” Matthew looked at him stern in his wandering eyes, “but you have been blinded beyond the picket fence of your society’s values.”
The soldier, once looking around, now stared back at the man. “And what in the Hell are you trying accomplish by saying that?”
“And what exactly are you trying to accomplish fighting in this war?!?”
The soldier stood proudly at attention and recited, “I am fighting for democracy. I am fighting for freedom…”
“You are nothing but a puppet…”
“…I am fighting against terrorism. I am…”
“…Propaganda strings and a puppeteer strangle your will.”
“…fighting for the betterment of society.”
“And just look at society today! What war has not advanced civilization toward another battle along the misguided paths of greed, corruption, judgment, and stereotypes?” Matthew challenged him for answer. There was a pause of silence. “And even experience can’t rinse the media’s soap bubbles from your mind.”
The soldier tried to quickly defend himself with other rehearsed lines, “This war on terrorism will destroy panic and fear in this world, and will benefit all in society.”
Matthew snickered, “War on Terrorism.” The soldier looked annoyed by his sarcastic tone. Matthew added on, “You claim to be fighting a war against terrorism and yet invade a country and destroy people’s lives in the name of something intangible in your world. Now who are the terrorists?”
“They –” The soldier was cut off.
“You! You are! You fight in the name of freedom but oppress everyone in the process of this drawn-out battle. You are just an anonymous pawn who can’t see past his nose so your leaders gave you a soldier’s uniform to double as a Seeing Eye-Dog.”
“I am not anonymous. My platoon depends on me. I am an army of one,” the soldier snapped back.
“You truly are a puppet,” Matthew replied, “Devoid of all individuality. You are chasing someone else’s dream, and fighting for someone else’s cause. If you get killed, they’ll replace you in the chaos they have created.”
“If I get killed, I’ll be mourned and will be recognized by the army-”
“With a folded flag presented during a closed casket funeral because your body was even more mangled from your fellow soldiers trampling you in their advancements towards the enemy!” Matthew started to raise his voice, “And for what purpose do they advance? To continue the chaos and pollution that is now known as society!”
The soldier grew very frustrated with Matthew, “We are working for the betterment of society, you son of a bitch! We see a positive future. We know the grass is greener on the other side!”
“Except where you choose to start there is no grass!”
Thrown off by the unexpected answer, the soldier quickly changed subjects, “And what in the Hell allows you to criticize what I am doing? People are dying, and I am promoting peace!”
“With war? Prevent war with a war never made any sense to me. You want to know what allows me to criticize you, because I fought in Vietnam, and I have seen what happens because of… war,” Matthew replied as bitterness entered his tone’s doorframe. “I know what results of war, and freedom is not what I would call it.”
“What would you call it then?” the soldier asked.
“Hell. Injustice. Torture. Collapse. I spent the last fifteen years of my life without a home. No one knew who I was. I remained anonymous amongst the crowd. Just like in the army. For fifteen years I was anonymous, not including the time served in Vietnam. For fifteen years I tried to find a purpose for my fighting….”
The soldier, now intrigued with what Matthew had to say, asked, “And, you did, right?”
“No! For the love of God! Are you listening to me? War has no purpose! It’s not your fight! Cut those puppet strings off of you and stop pretending to be someone else’s mannequin! Listen to these words carefully: War has no purpose!” Matthew stared at him in disbelief, wondering whether to call it stubbornness or stupidity.
“War has a purpose: to release the world of tyranny and grant freedom to the oppressed,” the soldier said.
“It grants freedom? Tell that to the children who fought next to me. Tell that to the children who fought against me. Tell that to the children who fought without a choice. Tell that to the children who lost their father. Tell that to those who gave their lives for an unjust cause… if a cause even existed,” Matthew continued to stare at him, the soldier stared back, Matthew threw in another statement, “And still you don’t see the truth.”
“I was told otherwise...”
“Just so that you would be willing to fight…”
“…that we were helping a country in need…”
“…for a cause that benefited only themselves…”
“…and we were doing the right thing.”
“…supplying a polluted dosage of greed and wealth into their pockets.”
“Now I see what I have done.”
“It is not a pretty sight.”
“No. God, how can I be so damn stupid?!?”
“It happens to the best of us.”
“You cleaned my brain of the media’s propaganda, and for that I thank you. And yet, I never gave you my name -”
A bright, white light blinded him, and once he opened his eyes again, he sees that he is back on the battlefield. Everything is still and dead. It was a silence that scared him, and only his rapidly beating heart disturbed the peace. He moved his eyes back and forth looking at a picturesque still life. Each heartbeat increased his nervousness, and his increasing nervousness accumulated more rapid heartbeats. It seemed like hours went by and he was still sitting there, an inanimate object. He wondered if life would remain immobile and utterly lifeless. He longed to go back to where Matthew was to talk some more. At least there was life in that realm, at least there was movement.
A distant rumble started growling, rattling his eardrums as it grew louder. Explosions of sound, a high pitched shriek screamed in increasing volumes of intensity. Kamikazes started wailing, soldiers started screaming. Life was finally returning to him. He felt so anxious to speak about his discussions with Matthew, a man who turned his whole life around. It was time he stood up to say what he needed to say.
The banshee came to life and screamed as it entered his skull, feasting upon his brain tissue. He fell backwards onto the ground, still gripping his survival kit, and his thoughts poured into the sand.
And the soldiers trampled his lifeless body in their advance…



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