The sickening, guttural screams of men coat the battlefield tonight, arrows substituting rain as they cascade. Swords and glaives clanging against each other will surely taint my dreams as I sleep. Why do we partake in such objectively wrong ideologies and events? Why do we let this cycle of war usurp our very beings?
"Man the stations!" I yelled, vigour surging through me, adrenaline carrying my actions forward as I had no time to truly ponder them. I was… flying across the battlefield.
I looked down and saw my adversaries like ants darting across blood-stained dirt. The wind flowing past me was calming; I felt my soul at ease in such a blood-curdling moment. Was I inhuman—or more human than I could ever comprehend?
"THEY'RE FIRING!" he shouted as I began drawing my bow. Just as I pulled back as far as I could, four of my friends were plucked from their very lives around me, arrows carrying pieces of their brains as they pierced through their skulls. What a cruel life I live. Was I meant to be nothing but an archer, standing here like a dunce, awaiting my untimely death? Were we—men and soldiers—nothing more than tools for our "great" leaders?
The noise stopped. Men suddenly froze. The arrows in the sky halted as if time itself had come to a close. In one fleeting moment, you could see every action suspended before your very eyes, as if you were inside a drawing observing from within. And before you could truly process anything, a silhouette appeared atop a hill, just where the moon was rising, the feathers on his helmet casting a shadow across the battlefield.
"How… unfortunate," I thought to myself as I stared down at the men fighting, as if I were watching toys battling without my guiding hand. Was I omnipotent? Was I the fate that governed their very lives? Most likely not, yet they seemed useless without my input. Did I feel forced to do this, or was this my own volition? I wondered as I raised my hand, pointing toward the centre of the field.
"Cease," I commanded, and the very ground rumbled beneath the men, time unfolding once more. Any lethal attacks toward either side were suddenly redirected off course. They dropped their weapons and looked to me—fear, shock, and disbelief infecting their expressions, some even buckling to their knees and grovelling.
The ground beneath them opened and began swallowing some of them, their lives sucked from their bodies into the underworld. The moon's cascading light shone brighter than before as the screams of men filled the sky. What a beautiful symphony it was. Synchronized screaming truly was something to behold.
"My very own requiem… how grand in their suffering."