Tick tock, tick tock, tick tock.

This sound may mean another second, minute, hour, or day for you perhaps.

It must be nice to be able to tell time.

Piercing screams of soldiers fill the air all throughout the day, almost like a loop, like time never stops... like... I’m in the Twilight Zone!

Oh god! I hate when I think like that. When I let go of the leash on my imagination I always think of the worse. It’s hard to collect my thoughts and be strong when I do that...let my imagination run free that is. I always manage to let it loose every day, maybe my grogginess in the morning lets me forget that if I don’t hold on tight I get depressed.

... I’m starting to think that you don’t understand me, that you think I’m some sort of kook or something. You’d feel depressed too if you were unpleasantly greeted with yellow mustard seed gas and groans of agony as bullets flying through the sky sear through the red flesh of your comrades. That’s how my day starts...I think.

I watch the soldiers fall and become indistinguishable in the piles of already rotting bodies. I can hear the sounds of vultures, they’ll probably start eating the bags of flesh in five minutes tops. I see it in their eyes, the desire for food.

Now my thoughts are then clouded in confusion and despair, I struggle to push back the taunting voice in my head sinisterly saying, “You’ll be next.” I try to ignore the jeering thoughts I really do. I firmly grab my sniper, hoping that’ll help and stand at attention, awaiting orders from my commander.

He’s a pretty intimidating guy and hates being challenged with eye contact. So, as I lower my head, I see a photograph of my beautiful baby boy peeking out of my pocket. The picture has dog ears and is slightly faded but I can still make out his beautiful big brown eyes that are filled with joy and wonder. A slight smile grows on my face as I remember why I’m fighting in the war; to give my son a better life, to give him the world.

I now see glistening pocket watches and photographs lining the pockets of the bags of flesh my fallen friends, realizing they too had someone they fought proudly to protect. Why didn’t I see them before?

Illuminating smiles now come from my remaining comrades that instill in me the hope that what we’re fighting for is worth it. My smile gets bigger. I step out of the trench and look out to the other side, knowing that I’m fighting for my son. What was I sad about again? :)