The revolution is over, we’ve won. Guns, bombs no longer shake the ground with their roar. The explosions are silenced, but the screams of agonizing death still ring. The skies are grey orange filled with the stench of the burning cities, forests, bodies.
They came at us in hoards. Planes, tanks, all sorts of business. We wear the same uniforms short the red arm band we wear with pride. We fought for days, weeks on end. No rest except the rest of the dead.
Their numbers became few and then there were none. We killed every one of them, killed them in the thousands. We ask for no quarter and we gave none.
I take rest from my Command. Walk around the block, need to clear my head. Fifteen, fifteen the number of street lights around the command block I counted, counted very carefully. Each has a body hanging. Rose as a warning to others to know who is in charge. These are our people, comrades I fought side by side. What is their crime? The fear is palpable, even as a Commander I fear that I will end up as my brothers swinging from a pole on display for all to see.
People will someday call this a civil war, ethnic cleansing, a great holocaust. I don’t care what it’s called, don’t care if I’m known as a butcher, slayer of innocents, I just want to survive, live in peace. Will this never end?
I feel my life here is short, measured in hours, maybe days, no longer. Time to get back to work, god help us.
From the Ramblings