In this world we lived in, having a dream was but a huge privilege for some; they were blessed with the illusion that whatever they want to happen would transpire if they were to sincerely believe in it. They thought that with just enough prayer and hope, their dreams would become a reality. Their feeble minds spent day and night thinking of whatever it was they craved for and all their lives were to be spent in chasing the footsteps of its ghost.
I had forsaken this earth; cursed it with every inch of my flesh and screamed at it with a hate so great it could devour a whole nation.
How could I believe in such a fairy tale?
My brother and father were brutally killed while my mother was helplessly raped by the grinning soldiers of hell in this little game they called war. We were forced to become a participant in an event which only fueled the greed and inhumanity of the rich and we served as an entertainment to their pawns and puppets blinded by the illusion of serving our country.
I once tried to have a dream; I thought of things I could be in the future and things I could do. However, each were met with hurtful remarks from my parents or were dismissed entirely. I never succeeded in having one.
Then, this nightmare occurred.
Those times were my problems were only limited to creating innocent fantasies were flushed down the drain when the demons came knocking on our door one night while their comrades swarmed our peaceful town. Needless to say, a chorus of screams and cries of despair filled the air, coupled with the cheers and sneers of the soulless beings.
Witnessing those horrendous acts, I could only forsake as I lay on the ground–tied–for I was weak. I wanted to save them; to relieve the pain and to lift the curse of death wrapping around them.
The next thing I knew, I was next on their list.
Their eyes focused on me as if I were an enchanting dinner waiting to be eaten by such predators. Words of kindness and empty calming phrases came flooding from their horrid mouths, but I knew they were only mocking the fragile lad restricted in front of them. I was now their prey and I couldn’t bear to imagine the things they would do to me.
Would they kill me as well?
Would they sell me somewhere?
Would they make me a slave for eternity?
My mind buzzed with all sorts of ideas influenced by fear. My whole body trembled for there was a possibility that what they would do to me would be more morbid than what I could imagine. I was not ready for the pain and the suffering. I never would be.
I begged, I cried, I prayed and I succumbed into darkness.
My pleas fell onto deaf ears. I knew there was no saving me. There was no hope. The tears that fell halted and I decided to escape within the confinement of my own mind. It was as if I were watching everything happening to another person; I became a being that watched as the four men sauntered toward the young blond lad who fell silent while his ocean blue eyes stared into space.
I didn’t flinch while I watched them beat me; each kick and punch was nothing compared to the kisses of the air. Still, the pale, thin body meeting those hits twitched and reacted. I saw blood flow from my mouth and I witnessed how some of my bones were broken.
I stayed and watched everything. I was disconnected from my own body—from the me who was experiencing damnation and cruelty. Contrary to others’ belief, it wasn’t hard. I just waited until I breath my last so everything would be over without any emotion towards what was happening.
Right when I was about to die–or so I thought–a group of men came inside our home and attacked the four souldiers who were under the ecstasy of violence. They met the same fate as my family and they paid their sins with their own lives. It wasn’t enough to compensate, but it would do for me.
The people who killed them picked me up, brought me into a safe place as they said, and nurtured me back to health. All the while, they showered me with kindness and humanity that I thought cease to exist.
I learnt that my saviors were members of a terrorist group whose sense of justice put the government’s to shame.
They had a clear view of what was right and what was wrong and they saved those in need because they couldn’t turn a blind eye. They were fighting for the rights of those that were not blessed with riches and of those who were weak.
They were an army of greatness.
In this world we lived in, having a dream was but a huge privilege for some and after that fateful night, I became one of the blessed and great ones.