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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1774646-I-am-nothing-but-the-breeze
by brie
Rated: E · Short Story · Dark · #1774646
A reflection of war.
I AM NOTHING BUT THE BREEZE

War is grusome. A grusome image and prospect. However it is a fight for what is believed to be justice and freedom. We, as humans, were never meant to be held down by metaphoric chains created by fear. People talk of a paradise, a heaven in which we go, but was this world not made for us to live and to create peace. What we have now may well be our paradise, a privelidge and a posession. If you were given something invaluable, would you keep it safe, guard it, share it? As I looked at the scene around me, I wanted nothing but for those men to realise the paradise that they had and keep it safe and peaceful. Fighting never solves anything. People die, for goodness sake, is that not reason enough to stop? Those were the thoughts that were going through my mind as I watched my home disappear before my eyes. I saw my family, eyes filled with horror. I saw a barren, dead land and I saw my face, my cold, pale face in my mother's arms and as I blew away in the breeze, the rain poured as my tears, for how helpless I was to my family, friends, home and the world. To me, death was somewhat a curse and a gift at the same time because it could be nothig but a gift to be pulled from the terror of war.
However, be wary of the curse, because I was nothing but the breeze.


Copywrite- Briana Tsang
© Copyright 2011 brie (brianatsang at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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