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I’ve never been in a fight before and honestly, I am a little frightened by the prospect.  One never knows how one will react in a fight or how well one will do.  There is just too much chance in fight.  Too much whim in the will of universe that makes me nervous.  You never know where the Hand of God will point you.

My friends though, can’t wait.  They are so excited, no matter what the prospect.  I wish I could be brave like them.  I wish I could be eager but I just don’t have it in me.  It is like I am hollowed out inside and if I get into a fight, I will be smashed up beyond all recognition.  I don’t tell them how scared I am, I don’t want them ribbing me all day.  It just surprises me that they don’t feel the same way.  I just feel, deep down in my very core, that if I get into a fight... that’s it.  It will be all over for me.  I fear that first fight will be my last.

My friends though, they keep laughing.  They keep bragging how well they will do.  How they’re gonna rip into the enemy and tear them to shreds.  Just makes me want to creep deeper back into my shell and not ever come out.  But I laugh and play along, hiding my insecurities.  Cause in the end, its not up to me or them, but the Hand of God that points out our path that we are to take.

God.  The Hand of God will point my way.  But what if I don’t want to go that way?  Where is my choice or aren’t I allowed one?  Is my destiny predetermined?  Am I doomed to die in a fight I don’t want to have any part of?  Why isn’t anyone telling us what we are fighting for, or do they expect us to all be eager like my friends?

I am scared.

I don’t want to die.

I don’t want to kill.

Yet the fight is upon us.

I am hiding in the middle of my friends.  They are all pushing forward like some mindless automaton, ready to charge forth with no care other then to go where the Hand of God tells us to go.  One by one they charge forward in a blaze of glory.

I don’t want this!  Call me a coward I don’t care.  I don’t want to die or kill for something I have no control over.  They are crowding me, pushing me forward to the breech where God will direct me to kill someone.

Please God!  Are you listening to me?  I don’t want to die!

My so called friends push me forward.  They are packed so close behind me that there is no way I can fall back and let them take my place.  They push me forward, all eager to go with some sadistic glee that turns me sick.  They are yelling at me to go so they can get into the fight.  I push back against the crowd behind me and I look across the breech.  Who does God want me to kill?  Dammit!  At least tell me why!  I refuse to kill, refuse to die for such an uncaring God!  I REFUSE!

* * *

Jamal cursed and then ducked down the car as more shots rang out in his direction.  He could hear the slugs slam into the car, puncturing metal with a hollow dull thud.  He pulled back on the slide of his glock, trying to clear the dud round in his gun.
Something new, that I am adding after my stroke.
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Submitted on
September 4, 2007
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