Creative Response

Journal

I never wanted to do these horrid things. It was against my morals, my ideals. But I couldn't deny my rulers. I was told to follow instructions or else pay the consequences. A sniper rifle was shoved into my chest a week ago by a man that I have never seen before, and haven't seen since. I was not taught how to shoot, or how to even hold the gun. The man said that this is going to be my best friend for a while. I only looked at it with disgust and hatred. Just as I look at myself, for performing these horrible crimes. I had my own station on the side of a mountain where I could sit and have a good look over Sarajevo. My job was to shoot on sight, and it took me by surprise. I am not a killer. Most of the people here are not. We are told by our leaders what to do and when to do it. They are the ones who the blood of the innocent falls onto, not us.

If I could speak out against our corrupt government I would. But I can't because then my life, as well as my families life would be at risk. So I just sit at my station. I look through the scope of my gun at all of the people running scared. All of the people looking for any source of food or water that they can find. I sometimes wonder what it would be like if I were one of them. Having to go out and get water and food for my family would be dangerous, but I would do anything for them. I try not to think about it because it makes me hate what we are doing even more. I know that I am being supervised, being watched by my authorities. So I have to kill. I scrape the number of kills everyday with a rock that I found one day near my post. I try and keep the death toll to one a day, but when I am being watched, I have to do more.

Once a day something amazing happens. A man sits in the middle of an open street, and plays a beautiful tune. It comes from his cello. Everyone up here on the hills stops, everyone listens, everyone forgets about what is going on around them. Because of him, I am taken out of a painful existence by the sound. Its the best part of my whole day because I know that he is going to be there. It gives me something to look forward to. I wonder if the people down in Sarajevo stop and listen just as I do? If they can hear the beauty in his music in all the bloodshed? I hope they can.