This piece I have published in the reddit sub “Writing Prompts”, with the topic “A pawn chess-piece, suffering from PTSD from all the war, wishes to end it for once and for all.”
It starts again, the front line. Endless black and white pastures in front of me, so clear that I can see the enemy from here, their shining front line. But I’m not fooled anymore, after endless battles, I know that’s from here they are white, but when fighting face to face with them you can see the cracks, their scars.
What has happened will happen again, just like in the many times before. I will fight, I will try, I will die. Painfully, I will die. Screaming for my family, for help, for a medic, alone I will die.
I cannot take it anymore. Too much death, too much of my own death. I dream of taking my own life but I can’t, I have to obey the rules. Do the King and Queen know that some of the scars are ones I did to myself? Do they care as long as I am doing my job?
I want to be done with it. I’ve heard stories of soldiers that were scarred so hard that they broke, and other pawns replaced them. How can I arrange that?
First blood, I can here it, time to move again.