A Pacifist's Flashback.

“Do it Morgan. Take the shot.”

Morgan’s hand shook, he was petrified. Tears began forming.

“Take the shot Morgan!” Red noticed the tears running down Morgan’s cheeks. “Not again! Shoot the bastard!”

Morgan dropped the gun to his feet and looked at his hands, “I can’t bring myself to do it, Red.”

Morgan was young, Red too. But Morgan was innocent and cared for people. He had strong good morals he couldn’t break. Red
was different.

“Don’t be a chicken shit!” Red picked up the rifle and aimed at the young confederate soldier on the ground. His hands raised for

peace. The southerner also was very young, and was probably drafted. He looked as if he couldn’t hurt a fly if he wanted too.

“That’s the enemy, Morgan!” Red cocked the gun.

“No, no please! Don’t, please don’t!” The southern boy begged the best he could.

Morgan grabbed Red’s arm, “He’s so young Red, younger than us. Don’t, please!”

Red yanked his arm back, “This man, and hundreds just like him will do anything to kill us and our people.”

“No, Red, please! Let the boy go!”

“Fine.” Red threw the gun between the southerner and himself. “He'll prove my point himself.”
Morgan already knew what was gonna happen and he looked away.

For a moment there was a long pause and Red thought his plan was fooled. But then, as Red predicted, the confederate went running toward the rifle, hoping to kill one of the two standing before him.

Red whipped out his revolver and fired one shot right between the enemy’s eyes. He fell and slid a little from the momentum. Red spun the death weapon into his holster.

“You monster!” Morgan screamed. “You knew that was gonna happen, we’re bred to kill each other!”

“Red looked over at Morgan with a faint smirk. Some people need killing. That’s the way it is, friend. They can fool you, and you can fool yourself, but it’ll always come back and bite you.”

Morgan shook his head, and walked away.