War

My life was balenced at the end of the blade. It would soon end in a swift motion. It was only a matter of time. A matter of time before the man in front of me decided to become a man and send the knife through my quivering body. I looked straight at him. His eyes were dark and heavy, glazed and cold. He looked at me wiht blank expression and I was sure he saw the same thing I saw in him. He did not seem much of a man at all. He was skinnier than i had ever seen before, and was practically wearing rags. He stood erect as if standing were his contest and he was confident to win.
His knife made a home right below my chin and waited until his commander gave him the sign to kill me off. It seemed as though hours had passed, and the blade still permanently rested below my chin, the man still standing for his contest. I felt myself becoming weak. My eyes grew heavy. I wanted to shift myself into a more comfortedable postition but I dreaded the knife and the command that still had not been sent.
The mans eyes still cold and heavy did not move nor blink. He didn't even flinch for the fly that occupied the end of his nose; although it was a dredful itch. He kept me waiting. He kept me wondering. Was I going to die? Was I going to live?
Suddenly the cream of white in his eyes seemed to cover the entire oval. He was becoming evil. He was becoming the unloading hell I anticipated for hours.
I discarded myself knowing my death was a few seconds away. He moved his blade away and beared it to my chest. He thrusted in and I felt the coldness of the metal pierce my tired heart.
He looked angry. As though every burden that ever occupied his life lay in the blade that pierced my heart. He felt the need to get revenge, and I was the one that lie in his way of getting it.
My body was no longer mine but it now belonged to the field with a million fighters.