The Final Journey

    And then it was that I woke up. The air around me was thick and heavy. About me was death, those we had killed and those that have killed us. I tried to lift my head, I could not move; I tried to raise my voice, there was no sound; I tried to breathe deep the air of Life, there was no breathe.
    The thick, sulfuric cloud of war thundered over me. The ground was wet and stinking with the reek of rotting blood, urine, and other foul excrement. There was a steady, morbid, horrifying, unending choir of dying men groaning, pleading for life. Heavy footed men came and hoisted away my decomposing brothers.
    The Truth should surely have been false, the right must have been wrong, the dead should certainly have lived! My father wouldn't let it happen, my mother would crawl to the very feet of God to bring me back. I was far too alive to pass away. But the things that have came to be cannot be undone.
    Dirty fingers grabbed me and I transcended into the air. Commotion surrounded me, engulfed me, devoured me. All around me was wrecked Life. Still I moved and could not move. Bloody, grimy men looked me in the soul and saw nothing. I was taken into the tent of the chemist.
    My clothes were stripped from me, but I was already naked. Some horrible words were muttered, and the biting smell of something unnatural filled the air. A sharp pain in my neck and then the steady flow of blood. Still I remained. Then the chemist put them in me until the perverted liquid filled me and I diminished no longer.
    Darkness, complete darkness. It felt like years and I saw no light. I then moved great distance and still moved not. Madness began to grip me. What Hellish fate had I bought for myself? Too quickly I joined the great mass to kill my brothers, too quickly I joined for lust of blood, too quickly I joined to steal the greatest gift of Man.
    Finally the light came back to me. I felt many living eyes upon my soul, and they saw nothing. I looked up and saw my honorable father, his face was that of a man ruined; though he was alive he lived no more. Next was my mother, once beautiful and fair, now her face was a storm cloud, her tears were as great drops of rain.
    Then I was lowered down, deeper and deeper than I ever wanted to go. Now all is dark again, complete quiet, total peace. I live no more, yet still I am.

Author's Note

This story is another part of my other stories.

Reviews

[Coyote Poetry]

A powerful story. The description was strong making your words come alive in a vision. The hell of prison become worst with the mind control of falseness and lies. Complete story held my attention. So many statements stood out. The ending was very good. I would want to read more stories with the strength and power of your words. A outstanding story.
Coyote

[Smith So Soon]

Well, this is interesting. It is a little too morbid for my specific liking, but it is still well-written nonetheless. Very sad and slightly disturbing.