War Inside

The back sky echoes in agony on this remorseful night. It's my story to write down what's happened. My times, my experience, it's a nightmare, but alive in a way that it's too surreal to even exist. This, this madness, no, not that shitty punch line of 300 but literal madness that this world can have happens. You see, my story can't be something that people blow off, or see and end too.

It's funny, to write an experience in what I saw and felt, but you know, I think I'll let you take this over. Dearest to the reader of my life before my eyes and not to know what's happening; God bless you to see how a nightmare can become reality, following life like a game. But here's a fact: Life is not a game, things happen in real life and to make a note, this could really have happen, and the news can hide me with propaganda and flash news of lies and tales. But well, you may think of this, but then again don't blow off my story.

My beloved, my name hidden to the world, you may be male or female, young or old, adventurous or timid, but do not take wholly to heart this tale, for sometimes in night this could echo and kill you slowly on the inside. I warn you my tale, and I give you caution to what may take over and send you messages subliminally. I shall tell you my tale, but you shall be what this story is about…

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It's dark, so dark you cannot tell whether your eyes are open or shut; no feelings anywhere in your body, no feet, eyes, ears, or hands. Nothing exists in your new world. You have no time sense, no senses at all; it could be days, months, years to see if what's happened. No knowledge, no memory, nothing. You're trapped; no ways to even think. Paranoia creeping through you though, with things and thoughts echoing in your own imagination or dreams, what if you're being watched? Controlled?  To be monitored, to be watched, something watching your movements, thoughts, an even diving into you subconscious, seeing even you deepest dreams and fears.

You try to feel anything, trying to feel your lips, to try and grasp words on where you lips would be. Thinking now starts to hurt, pain driving, but you don't know where or if it's even real; flashes of thoughts pop in and out, eating you from the inside out, until you try to fight an idea creeping in to your thoughts. What if you're dead? No feeling, no senses, it all makes sense. But now you question everything. "Why am I thinking?" "How did I die?" "What happened?" You just remember a wonderful experience, a small get together with your companions and friends at a café for someone's birthday or celebration. Wait… Now you remember, you were celebrating your old childhood sweetheart's engagement to someone they left you for. But then, what happened?

Was it a gunshot? Blacking before the death came up? Sudden heart attack? Even the healthy can get them in rare occasions. Were you killed in your sleep? Murdered? Accident? You can't stop now, question everything; question your very existence now. What about that man on the news who escaped federal prison, seeking out to kill anyone for his own pleasure. But now you're jumping, you're missing desire, missing pleasure. What are you to do? What if you have a sexual desire and yet you having nothing to do? Are you to imagine your previous life with such whores and sex images? What if you forget them? Or get nothing from them now? It's hard now; you jump around in your soul and mind. What about love? What about questioning what's happening without you? No… No more pain you say to yourself, no more questioning, you have eternity for that.

Give up, something says to you in your head, stop fighting, and accept your death. No, not when something has happened; fight you say, stand up and see what's happened. You feel obliged to now fight. You scream at yourself in your mind. How could you let this happen? How could you let someone down almost! You let yourself down to die! You scream at yourself louder and louder, but stop, doubt has entered the system now.  You stop, silence, scary silence. It's over you think, but as your mind dulls, you stop everything to something… a faint sound. It…it was breathing, your own breath kept you alive, it kept you sane! But you couldn't tell several things. Are you truly alive? Are you imagining this breathing?

You stop to hear this breathing more, inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale; you hear this rhythm; it's real. It's yours. But how ca you not hear it? Confusion not sweeps thought, but then panic strikes you cold.

The breathing stopped.

Panic. Why is there no more breathing? Why is quiet again? True doubt, you betrayed yourself now, leading to final conclusions eating at your very soul. But everything settles and you try to give up again, but you're stopped to a faint sound barely echoing in the emptiness.

Buh-bup… buh-bup… buh-bup.

Yes, it is your heartbeat, you're alive. But how you ask? You question everything again, searching the darkness, screaming in your head for answers but denied at every corner. Stop the madness! You scream at everything for freedom to yourself! But what's this…? You hear something, like a cat screeching to a child almost ripping its tail off.

Screeching, screaming, howling your now alive lungs out, you demand for anything and everything but stop, you feeling something, arms and legs; movement. Yes, they have feeling. Now you kick and flail, screaming and howling, fighting for your life. Victory is in your grasp, but only to be stopped by a light brighter than the sun blinding and disabling you. Now dazed, demanding, possibly delirious you can feel gravity and push yourself up from a cold, hard, and metallic ground. Picking your hands up and rubbing your eyes, you have full feeling again.

You finally open your eyes to a burred picture only for a split second before your eyes meet a size 12 shoe, right between them.

Pain, like fire, seared up your nose; making you scream again and fall straight on your ass. You attempt to pick yourself up again, only to be kicked in the gut and to the ground you go again. You search the proximity with your dull eyes, and manage to make out two figures; a delicate female frame and built male frame. You felt warmth running down your face, it was blood obviously.

"What is this…?" You try to ask as a punch crashed into your stomach, making you drop a knee and spit out blood. Muffled words echo from them, barely audible but you manage to read their lips and paraphrase what they say. You make out to see that you were wanted by Russian socialists also the research on the next bomb that will end the War on Terror. It's something that everyone wants, and something that you feared to even explore. Unknowingly you had spoken in that death trance supposedly, some new drug or medical warfare they know, but they had run it dry on you. Draining you of secrets, taking all you know and transferring them to what they need. They know everything, who you are what your past is, they know your whole life and you barely remember who you are yourself.

They threaten to kill you, saying you were obsolete now, your secrets are gone and you have nothing more to give. They step forward to kill and you step back, gaining full control of your body. Now angered, they warn you now, they wanted a clean kill, no mess. They got the wrong thing now, all because of you. Your heart now starting to race, blood pumping, adrenaline rushing through yours veins, you manage to jump back from their charge and run for your life, remaining silent as you run down a deep, bright corridor. Hearing shouts and yells behind but you finally stop to a clamp around your mouth and being dragged into a dark room.

"Shh--they'll here ya...!" A small, harsh voice whispered into your ear. You open your eyes and not look up, but down, to a small Hispanic girl, possibly nine or ten years of age. She smiles up at you and releases you. "Sorry, but I had to." She had a full accent like yours, but appeared like something else, but as a common saying goes: everything is not as it seems. She looked into a hallway then at you. "I knew that they couldn't hold a hero… C'mon, I know a way out; I was waiting for you…" She leads your through the small room slowly, almost too cautious of the area. You go to speak but she silences you and points to a small vent in the floor. "Escape here… She gently picked up the cover and pointed down. "You can get out and escape into Moscow from here."

Moscow? You're in Russia? You question more, but you stop to question her. She refused to answer and pushed you to the exit. "Go." She smiles and looks, checking for safety. Something about this little girl confuses you, making you dare to ask questions to her. Who is she? What's her name? Why is she here too? Everything is spinning in your head, wave after wave of confusion hitting your head and eating at you in curiosity. You make the fatal flaw that you think is okay to do, you lower your guard; Hell breaks loose.

The door is busted down and the girl screams and pushes you towards the vent. "Go! Get out of h--!" She completely cut off to a gunshot to her back and collapses to the ground with a very light thud. No time for remorse! GET OUT NOW!

You jump and escape into the night, the life of a real hero wasted for one that now doesn't exist.

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Such a sad story that I lived, is it not? I am the vain on existence to that girl who died. But now you question everything. How did a girl save my life? How did this story come to exist? Do you honestly expect someone to say that this is an exceptional thing to write? Well, I don't know what to think as my life is nothing now as I dedicate something to no one or expect a Novel award for this short story.

I bid you farewell my friends and enemies. As for me to you, a word or thought: If one cannot tame the war that goes inside one's head, how can one them even attempt to tame the one that goes outside them. Sign a treaty for your sanity before signing one to make a promise that never existed.