Dead Man Walking

The days were cold and the ground was about as comfortable as a rock. I had lifted up my head, shaking from the previous battle. I saw my fellow soldiers on the white ground. The snow was painted in their blood. I was the only living soldier on the battlefield then. I can no longer tell whether I was shivering from the cold wind blowing against me or the images of everyone get injured and killed. I looked around me, for any wandering eyes. After confirming that I was alone, I began to walk back to the campsite.

Snow was piled so high on the ground that it began to fill my boots. I tried to ignore my iced feet, but had no success. My uniform was falling apart. There was no warm and soft fur brushing against my neck as I walked. The weapons that were on my person had also vanished. I had nothing to protect myself from man or nature.

Soon enough I could see were the campsite was established. Tents were surrounding a smoking campfire in the middle. The tents were ripped to shreds leaving barely anything for it’s skeleton to support. The snow was falling faster and the wind was blowing harder. It was enough to knock a small child off his feet. I hid behind a tree, to keep some of the wind out of my face. I lied down on the ground, contemplating about why I came here in the first place. Was it worth the risk I just took on my life? Did I do this for a good reason or was it for something I didn’t want?

My stomach was running on empty, and I was exhausted from my own mind. Slowly my consciousness drifted away from me and my vision became black. The extreme cold of the wind and snow became warmer and warmer. The gentle noise of the harsh wind sounded like a lullaby as it traveled through the trees.

Eventually the sound of the whistling winds turned in the melody of a crackling warm fire. There was a large piece of bear fur covering my entire body. As I was listening and watching the reliable fire, I had come to the realization that my limbs were bound to the ground. I had barely enough mobility to move my neck. Soon enough I heard footsteps coming my way.

I struggled to gain my freedom to run however, I was not quick enough. With strong rope holding my body in position, a blunt object hit me upside the head. With my mind black once more, my nightmares and thoughts began to return. Was I wrong to follow my parents’ dream of becoming what I am? Should I be looking for my own passion and not some wish from another? Will I survive? Am I already dead? Will I know if I’m dead?

As soon as the light and the warmth came in, the thoughts and questions stopped. My shoulders were sore and my ankles were swollen. My body was bare and I was on a large stick. With rope my ankles were secured and my arms were tied behind my back. A large crack sat on my forehead. Blood was dripping onto the ground, as if creating a pathway for help, or a monument walkway for historical events.

I was eventually stuck in the ground around a large bonfire. A circle of other people were filling in the empty spaces around me, each tied the same way, with the same cut, and none with a piece of clothing on their back. Some were still unconscious, others were dead or tied, and a few had a cloth wrapped around their mouth for them to keep quiet. Each victim had a man next to their post. They were all bare-chest with animal teeth sewn onto their shoulders, like one would stitch a button to their shirt. Their noses were painted with and reached up to their forehead. Their right cheek had two black stripes will the left had a red circle colored orange. Their pants were from animal fur with a small pouch hanging from waist. Their hairstyles came in different forms of messy and rugged.

There were large red containers with a long black spout coming from one end. A handle for easy carry was placed at the top of the container, almost blending in with the design as if to not exist. Each one began to pour a rancid liquid onto all of our chests. The liquid dripped down our legs. The solution was eventually running from the red containers down our backs. The band of people began to sing a song in a foreign language you couldn’t understand.

Even though the meaning of their lyrics were unknown, the melody and how they flowed together made sense. As it began to progress more and more, you got lost in the peaceful sound and the gentle rhythm. Soon, the entire thing consumed you into your own little fantasy world. You’d be so enchanted by this experience, that it became a great distraction from your flesh melting off your body as they set flames to create their own choreography for the music.