My curseMy relflection stares back at me. My own eyes seemed to judge me. Curse me. Hate me. I stand here, drowing in the blood that I have bought to the surface. Why have I done this? What drove me to this madness? Why? Why? Why?She lies at my feet, her life seeping away. I lick my lips, tasting her, still warm.What do I deserve? Punishment?What am I? A man, a monster or neither?You tell me. Because at the minute, all I want to do is laugh.
Not all badNot all badThe small village, located just to the west of the Poland/Germany border burned bright. Men, women and children were forced from their homes and to their knees. They wept, cried and shook in fear. The men were pulled away, seperating them from their families. The men were lined up and again, forced to their knees. A soldier stood behind each one. A SS officer stepped out of his car and survied the area. He waved his hand and the order was given. Shots rang out as all the men fell or slumped to the ground. The women and children screamed, getting up from their positions and running in all directions, fearful of their lives. Another order was given. The soldiers opened fire, mowing them down. Soon, the entire village was quiet, except for the roar of the fire. There was so much panic and confusion during the massacre, nobody noticed something. No one noticed the young German soldier, only 18 years old. When the order to kill was given, he did not obey it. Instead, he stood an