Afraid of Death, General?

I surveyed camp. Every warrior, every tent, every soul. My eyes then traveled to the horizon, and slowly drank all detail within the sandy landscape. The sun was already sinking and as it did so, a stain spread in the sky. Exchanging colors, from orange to pink, from pink to orange. It was a unique sunset, something beautiful. As if nature was trying to lift the soldier’s spirits before the upcoming battle.

I thought about the sky for another second, and my mind traveled back to my hometown, where each sunset was even more dazzling than the last. The place looked far away now. Nostalgically, I thought about my home, my wife, and most of all, my memories. Sadly, I was sent to the battle ranks. It wasn’t a surprise really, every man either worked for the army, or was part of the army.

“General, the troops have finished setting camp. Orders, sir?”, a soldier’s voice reaped through my thoughts. I turned around and spoke slowly, as my mind got used to being in the reality realm again,”Tell the men to rest. They’ll need all their energy for tomorrow”, “It shall be done, general”, the man’s face showed no sign of guilt at interrupting my thoughts. As he strode away, I noticed, for the first time, how young he was. Certainly not older than twenty. Most of our troops were composed of people that age… and a big percentage of them died in the battlefield. Poor souls.

When first I joined ranks this absolutely shocked me. How had our kingdom fallen so low? How could the king do such a thing? A cold breeze ran up my spine. Figures, I thought. I couldn’t expect less from the night-time desert. The winds had already started whispering their breezes, making the soldiers retreat to their tents. “General, I suggest you get in your tent. The winds will, surely, make sandstorms rise overnight”, a pause,” General?”, I, once again, was startled as my mind was pulled back to the real world. “Thank you lieutenant, I will”, my mouth felt dry, the desert was already affecting me. “You are most welcome, General”, he vowed and walked away.

General… How did I get the position? When the call to join the army arrived, I was to be a mere scout. Another insignificant, worthless, expendable number among other insignificant, worthless, expendable numbers. But now… but now everything was so different, and important. Yes, important, most of all important. War meetings, strategic plans, speeches, audiences, ordering, leading, just to name a few. I had evolved from an insignificant scout to a valuable general. But, to date, the question remains, why was I promoted? I was nothing, and had no powerful relatives. I knew the last general was killed. Still, strangely, I had yet to join a battle. Tomorrow would be my first blood-shed. Ugh, my brain started to hurt, as I realised I had visited the lands of my thoughts yet again.

Night had found its goal: the sky. I turned to leave night and desert alone, but as in response, a sandy breeze encountered a way to my nostrils. It felt as though something had taken the liberty of pinching my brain.

My body fell to its knees, and my hands clutched my skull, while I desperately tried to exhale every last particle of sand. Yet, before I could, another sand-filled breeze decided to fly by and visit my eyes. I moved my hands to my eyes, made with them a shield, inside which, my eyes blinked repeatedly. Sand kept on accumulating around me. Burying me. Was this my fate? Die because of some sand that entered my eyes and ears? Would my ending be to be buried in the desert? Those questions raced through my pinched brain, and then two pairs of hands curled around my arms, and, in the stealth of the night, carried me away.

Suddenly, I stopped feeling sand beneath my feet, even around my body. I felt I was being dropped on a solid floor. In the time it took me to de-sand myself I heard voices walking away, laughing. My eyelids flew open, revealing blood-shot eyes. I was back in the strategy tent, which also happened to be my bedroom tent. Quickly, I figured out what had happened. Two scouts had found my motionless body on the sand blanket, figuring it was me, the General, they carried me inside my tent. Then…they laughed at me. “Hoho, the General was overpowered by something as harmless as sand. He’ll die tomorrow. He is weak. Ah, the irony of life”. My blood boiled, how dare they insult me in such a way? They’d see tomorrow, I’d finally prove I was as good a soldier as any of them. I would earn the respect I deserved. I’d show my position wasn’t just for formal events. Then, as if someone had snapped their fingers in my face, I realised I was getting furious at an event that maybe hadn’t even happened. The shame.

I went to bed early, tiredness wouldn’t be appreciated the following day by anybody. I slept peacefully, for I had several sleepless nights accumulated in my eyelids. I dreamt a wonderful dream of peace and perfection. I dreamt of my wife and a stampede of steeds rebelling against their knights, against the kings. The roots of war.
As soon as the day came to an end, however, a blood-chilling wail woke me up.

The wail was full of sadness, sorrow, pain. But most of all, dread. It chilled my blood, yet it gave my heart warmth, such that I, too, broke into a cry. I cried silently since I didn’t want anymore rumors staining my reputation. But more questions landed on my never-tiring mind. Who could be wailing this late at night? Why wasn’t anyone else up? But the question that frightened me the most, who was wailing? It was a woman undoubtedly, for the high-pitched voice gave that away, still, there were no females fighting in the war, let alone our camp.

Like lighting, an idea struck me, and my cries ceased. Was it possible? Was it a banshee? The spirit that supposedly wailed before your death? The probability stared to consume me from the inside. My idea was so intense I left my tent with sword in hand, ready to see the spirit myself; but when I got out the desert was freezing, and visibility was zero. I never knew what that had really been.

I now am at the front of the troops. Leading the army I was assigned to lead. Directing the king’s forces to a major victory. I shout at the soldiers, boosting their spirits, I yell as if there is no tomorrow, I raise my voice as if words alone can win a battle, no. A war. The enemy lines have started advancing towards us, raising swords, lances, axes and a cloud of dust as their marching feet stomp the desert.

Me? I start my advance, the army following my lead. Both enemies will collide in ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one and clash! Blood is spattered, metal is clashing against metal. Screams of pain are heard, cries of agony fill my ears, bodies fall down, limp. I am frozen, paralyzed. Blood smears cover me, bathe me, then I ask,” Why am I here? What is this?”, and I run, I run, I run away from it all, I leave the battle behind, the screams and wounds. The swords and souls. But I have lost my way, the desert covers all, hides all. I’m lost, I’m thirsty, I am dying. But why am I so afraid? What is death, that makes the most valiant the most meek? Why does death makes us all so scared?

It was such my fear of dying in the battlefield that I chose to die in the heat of the desert instead. Yet I cannot understand what comes after life, that makes me all wiggly. Is it the unknown that frightens me such? And as my body falls limp to the sands, my mind speeds up one last time. What is in store for humanity?