Soldier's Story

A shrilling shout was cried. A single gunshot was fired. The two twin boys awoke straight away. They put on their shoes and shirt. They ran to their bedroom door. They held each other with a tight grip. To their left, a pool of blood was slowly streaming by. Terror and anxiety scarred their faces. Another gunshot was fired.They ran to their mother’s room without a thought in their minds. She lay motionless on the floor and lifeless beside her bed. She was naked. Her skin was torn apart. Her hair had dark red highlights. Her chest held bullet wounds close to her heart. The stench ruffled their runny noses. Tears forced their way out of their eyes, like vomit.

“ Get out heah now you traitahs!” A man roared from afar.

Two boys and the night appeared in front of them. They gripped their guns with the hands of men.

“I found dee traitahs! I found dem! Ovah here!”

Kwame and Kofi dashed for the front door. Bullets were thrown their way. Boys were sprinting after them. Older men followed behind them.The twins entered the woods barefooted and shirtless. Spikes and splinters cut their shorts and feet. They ran through branches and leaped over leaves, limping in pain. Plants were crushed and crunched. Rebel men chased after them, shooting at their black bodies in the hours of darkness. As the boys ran, voices of the anonymous became distant.

“I think we have lohst dem,” said Kwame, panting frantically. “I think we should split up an--

…”Guns blasted louder than thunder. They came from behind. Kofi started crying
uncontrollably. He couldn’t see. He couldn’t think. He couldn’t breathe. He ran away from his brother. He was running to nowhere. “Kofi! Kofi!”A hardy hand grabbed Kwame’s leg. Kwame fell to the ground.“Be quiyet. I am Joseph. You ah with the arhmee now. You will be safe wit us,” a man whispered. The same man shot a looming rebel dead.
Two brothers, each were unwillingly taken to live in two different worlds of war.
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He unclosed his eyes. He felt his face. Waterless tears stuck to it like a child in a womb. Kofi looked up. Luminous lights struck him, shrinking his eyes.

“You cannot stay in bedt all day. It is noon time, uttered a woman worker, towering over his still body.
She was so stern she made the army look gay.
“Ok,” he responded.
“A quiyet one you will be, ah?”He didn’t say anything.

The woman was tall and brown skinned, just like him. She had ample brown eyes with a mole beside her left. Her lips were dark and lovely, full with the flesh God gave her. On her shirt it said “Akua”. Kofi moved his feet towards the ground. He sat upright, like his now deceased mother taught him. He scrutinized this place called the orphanage. Worn out bunk beds with thin sheets were cramped together in the room. Some boys lay soundless – eyes shut and mouths wide open. They looked just like him. Others were cleaning because the drill sergeant told them to. Kofi felt a disheartening feeling. There were no parents, brothers, or sisters. He never saw them outside of his dreams. He was homesick. This was the lost and never found box he was living in; these boys were living in; boys who were nothing.
Kofi watered those old dry tears.
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“Get up! Get up right now and take ‘dis with jew,” a tall dark man bellowed in Kwame’s ear.
Lieutenant was his name – Lieutenant Joseph. He was the army officer from yesterday, dressed in camouflage.

Kwame stretched his long limbs and got out of the plain and already broken bed. He yawned. A bad sleep crept onto his eyes, declaring its home there. Kwame was a confident boy back home. But in this black hole of misery, his confidence was caught and never seen again. Through the darkness, he saw little ebony figures moving mechanically to line up. They were holding something long and smooth; black. They were headed towards the door. None of them were his little brother.

“Calm on! Hurry up! Do not disobey me,” The same man roared, louder than a lion.

Kwame took a step to follow the line, but he stepped on something hard. It was a gun. He stared at it and then picked it up. The boys walked barefoot into the daylight. Tinted houses surrounded their view. He followed. Gunshots from afar boomed into the air. The boys instantly fell to the dusty earth. Their brown eyes stomped the floor. Cries of fear were expressed on their faces.

“Get up! Stop yoh whinin’! You ah souljahs now! You ah men! You have to fight dee enamie! Do you undahstand?
“Yes sir.”
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After cleaning his face, Kofi sat down on a wooden chair. He was staring into space, thinking like a scholar. He wondered about his older brother. A voice cut his thought into pieces.
“Hi. My name ees Nana. What is yoh name?”
“Kofi,” he responded.“Hawh did you get heeah?”
“I was running frohm the rebels and the people here let me in,” he uttered quietly.
“Oh. My mowda was shot and my dad cooed not afford me. So I am here,” Nana said with sorrow.

He hung his head.The black and white TV was blaring static and news:

“Out of this world singer Joanna will be visiting Africa tomorrow. She is going to pick up an African black baby. She is the latest celebrity to do so. Joanna says she wants to do her part in helping those who need it the most. I know we at the news station are doing our part by reporting the latest news. Speaking of that, figure skater Romeo just bought a new house…”

“I wish sohme one would get me out of here,” Nana cried.
“Me too,” Kofi whispered.
“Do you think that dey know abaht us out there?”
“No. My mom all ways told me dat the world is a shadow to us and ah way of life,” Nana said a little angered.
“Maybe,” Kofi stated.

They both went over to the right side of the room. There was little food, plastic balls, and broken cars. Kofi grabbed the broken car. Nana grabbed a half eaten banana. As he was moving the car in all directions, Kofi looked up through the window. The trees were greener than America. Flowers flourished from the trampled grass. The sun was beaming life onto the vicinity. Men and boys dressed in dark clothing from a distance were beaming death through the window.
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“You werh all braught here to me yestaday becawse yoh moddas and faddas did not want you. They hate you. The wished dat you weh nevah born. Right now, ah having break fast with de enemy. De rebels! They have made you who you ah now. They have put jou in this place. Dat is why we have to kill every single wan of dem!
“Yeah!” Some children were already indoctrinated; Jedi mind tricks.

“My souljahs,” he laughed, “I am Joseph. I am yoh mastah. I am yoh King. I am yo God! Togethah, we ah the arhmy Now line ahp!”

The boys lined up with the guns still gripped. Army men walked into the private place. Kwame felt qualm slither up his spine. His stomach rumbled. They had guns and glasses. They blasted hip hop music from a tank nearby and rapped along. They smoked blunts and drank alcohol. The boys could hear wildfire of shots in the background. The war was still ongoing. They were living near death. Kwame fought his tears to hold them back. He lost.

“You see these men; these souljahs? They ah fightin foh jew! You will be like them,” said the cynical sinister.

A blindfolded man was thrown against the grey wall by Joseph’s men. Who’s father it was lingered in Kwame’s mind.

“You – step forward now!” Joseph yelled Mr. Sinister pointed to Kwame’s left.

It was a small boy. He reminded Kwame of his little brother.

“Shoot dis disgrace of a man, dis foolish rebel.” Joseph spoke casually.
The small boy closed his eyes.
“Shoot him or I will shoot you.”

Tears streamed down the face of the unknown boy. Kwame fixated his eyes on the unnerving scene.

“Now”!The boy was static.
“Do it souljah!” Joseph yelled.

The boy was static. Joseph aimed his gun at him. He put his gun down. He raised it again and shot the boy. The small boy was thrown 3 feet. He hit the ground like hail. His body lay inert on the sandy road. Blood was exiting his body erratically. The rest of the boys gazed. They didn’t breath.

“Now, it is yoh turn,” Joseph declared, looking at the rest of the living boys.
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