He could see his target clearly through the scope; the crosshairs aligned perfectly on the forehead. This should be easy, he said to himself. He graduated first in his class; he was a certified elite. Yet somehow he knew that this was different. Beneath the calm composure, he knew that all the training in the world could not have prepare him for this day. Waiting for the next command, he shifted his weight uncomfortably, but he kept his eyes fixed on the child's face.
*************
He stood there in the midday sun. He was tired and he wanted to go home, but he stiffened at the thought of home. For a flash of a second he heard the piercing scream of his mother ringing in his ears. It didn't sound like her, but he could still tell that it was her. He felt the heat of the fire even though the flames were only burning in his memory. He forced himself to push away those scenes replaying before his eyes and focused on the task at hand. He wasn't really sure what he was doing there, but he looked at the other boys and they seemed to know, and it gave him a sense of security. It wasn't quite the same kind of safety he felt at home, but this would have to do for now.
*************
She peeked nervously out the window of the church. Everyone had settled down now, but before that was chaos. Amidst all the shouting and frantic scrambling, the only thing she understood was her mother's instructions: hold my hand! hold on tight! come with me, don't let go! She was confused, but she sensed the urgency in her mother's voice so she asked no questions. There had been an air of suspicion around town these days; she remembered being called names. She had no idea what they meant, but she gathered that it was something nasty. She couldn't figure out what warranted the sudden change in the way her neighbours treated her. As far as she could tell, she hadn't done anything differently. She brought her attention back to the men standing outside. Why are they all wearing funny blue hats? she wondered.
*************
In a moment of rude awakening, he realized that he was stuck in an impossible position. He tried to focus on the situation. There was a war, and he was there to stop it. Somehow. He couldn't help but notice the simple innocence beneath the stern cold stares -- the innocence that only belonged to young spirits. He couldn't connect the two; he could not conceive of the possibility that this row of boys who could not be older than 16 had turned into killing machines, shielded by a row of girls who seemed even younger. No longer able to bear the reality of his circumstances, he shifted his gaze away and his attention fell onto his own rifle. His killing machine.
*************
With each extra second spent standing in the stifling heat, he felt his fear rising from his stomach. He was having trouble focusing and concentrating. He tightened his grip on his machete, only to find that he fingers had already gone numb from having held on to it so tightly since they arrived there half an hour ago. He looked down and saw the dry blood on the cold blade. It was from the day before, he thought, but when he tried to remember what happened exactly, he found that whatever it was, he could not recall. He remembered the field that he used to play in while his mother worked on the farm next to it. He'd dig holes into the ground and sprinkle little rocks into them, then cover them with the soil again. He tried to remember what took place yesterday, but failed again. Horror seized him when he learned that without reason or logic known to him, he was loosing his time.
*************
She looked at the boys, then then men. She switched her attention back and forth between the two groups, fearing that she would miss the first action right when she looked away. Not knowing that her life hung on the balance between this stand off, she only knew that she had been kept there for too long, and she was bored. Deep down she had a feeling that no action was better than action, but the restlessness inherent in an 8 year-old was making her wish for some movement. Any movement. She looked over to her mother and saw that her face was masked in an incomprehensible sadness and horror.
*************
He didn't sign up for this. He joined the military partly out of family pride, but mostly because it paid for his college tuition. He had always been a good athlete, and he thought military training would be kind of the same. But football wouldn't have brought him here, standing between madness and, well, more madness. To protect the church-full of civilians means putting a bullet into this kid's chest; spare him and he would be giving up whatever moral responsibility he was prescribed when he joined this mission. He came here thinking that he would be saving lives, not taking them or giving up on them. He chose to come because he believed in the spirit of a united world, in the idea of being a guardian of peace. Now he knew that there was no peace for him to keep in the first place, and he wasn't sure if any standards of morality could help him here.
*************
He stood there, faced with frenzy, the madness of humanity
He stood there, not knowing how he got there
He thought he had been doing the right thing all along
He couldn't remember where it starting going wrong
She stared, not realizing her place in it yet
She was lost in thought, wondering if she should have known that life would turn out this way