• The war had started and seemed not to end,
    even as the life was blown out of those people one-by-one with every last breath.
    It seems to be that our eyes cannot see clearly from the mix of everything we can percieve:
    the exaggerated motion and speed of the explosions, the cloudy areas of dust in the air. The still, cold bodies lying lifeless and sprawled out over eachother, littering the ground. Dark patches of color paint the Earth's surface. Blood.

    Walking through the field, we smelled the putrid odor of decay. The horrible sensation of the warm liquid surging up from the ground through the weight of our being, staining our skin with every step a dark red color. It was terrifying and disturbing. Burning the images into our brains in which we could not avoid or get out. We heard yelling and screaming, of pain and anger. Something no one should have to face, at least not in the place.

    The sights and sounds were starting to become clearer as we avoided the rolling bodies down the hill. The explosions were more presice in distance and area, the clouds of dust were seperating, becoming thinner. We were striving through it, leaving the place where we thought it would all end. This warfare, this battle-ground had to have a perimeter, somewhere far out beyond this hell where you couldn't get hurt this way. Where your last breath wouldn't be filled with dust and the acrid scent of blood.

    As we started to numbly run, our vision blurred with tears of hope and joy, we raced up another steep hill almost smelling the air of freedom. We ran and ran and came near the top out of breath. Smiling and silently laughing, we reached the summit with eyes closed trying not to scream with happiness. As we took our first steps foward and opened our eyes, our smile dropped. Unconciously walking we tripped over something. A warm limp thing covered in some warm, thick liquid. As we looked back and around, we saw. It was a body. But not a body like all the others, it had color, and a moving chest. It was breathing. It was alive, but barely. A blonde haired, young man. Light blue-grey eyes, his legs torn up and bloody and arms unseen. 'Water.' he said with a scratchy whisper, 'Water, please!'

    As I gazed into his eyes and reached for the canteen around his waste, the ground shook and dirt and limbs were thrown into the air. Everyone but me was gone and in pieces. Horrified by the gruesome sight, I ran without a single look back at the barely breathing boy. Guilt overwhelmed me and I had an urge to go back, but I couldn't. I ran down the hill picking myself up after every fall from tripping over some lifeless object. I ran and ran until I couldn't feel my body anymore and I fell to the ground. On my hands and knees I stay there, breathing short painful breaths, ones that boy would no longer take.

    I'm staying there, on my knees. Not breathing, I don't have enough energy to force myself to. As my vision blurs and I'm starting to fade, my minds empties. I'm falling asleep into a peaceful place where nothing happens like this. Just as I'm about to fall, my eyes open and I'm laying down. My vision is obscured by bodies at my eye level. I try to sit up but I scream in searing pain running from my arms to my chest to my spine and then I feel nothing. I look down, by legs are covered my a metal object, cold yet steaming. I scream and scream as I realize where I am, what just happened. I try to breath very little and make myself go back to that place. The place where I feel everything bad at once, and then slip away into an everlasting happiness. The dreaming state far away from here, where there is no war. No dust in the air. No explosions. No blood. But that is not this place, this place is the Birth of the War.