Making a Monster

“Here kid, take this.” That’s what he said as he handed me the gun. I had never had one in my hand before, the long barrel and extended clip for bullets went down to my knees. What am I supposed to do with this?

“You got two options kid, use it on yourself or use it on someone else, regardless I couldn’t care less.¨ The man was tall and had a cold expression that freaked me out.

I had no idea what to say to the man, so I took the gun from him. Why would I want to take my life with the gun? Why would anyone ever do that? The scary man must be joking and playing a trick on me.

I had been home in bed with my mommy, listening to her great stories only a day ago. This makes me want to break down and give up, but I knew I had to be strong for my family. Yesterday three men came to my house and talked to my mom as I ran around the backyard with my little sister. By the time they were finished talking mommy was crying. The guys then grabbed my shoulder and pointed me to an old rusty truck. Mom took my hand and told me these men were gonna take me to a place where all boys go when they reach the age of 13, but I knew by the markings on the truck they were soldiers. She told me things had changed. She said our home was in a war and they needed little boys like me to help out. I must go, I had to be the brave strong man she knew me to be, she said, as she began to cry. The men stepped in and told me I had to leave now, but my mom would not let go of me. One of the men hit her so hard she fell onto the dirt driveway. I began to scream along with my sister. I remember the men picking me up and carrying me to the car. My last glance of my family was from the back of the truck, mommy was lying in the dirt with her hand extended in my direction, I didn’t want this to be goodbye.

Now I’m here, a dark damp cellar full of sandbags and men.Mister, who will I be fighting against? How long will it be until I can see my mom? The soldier gave me an angry glare. I hope the men do not think I have the ability to really kill another person. I become heartbroken, heartbroken at the world. I think to myself, all war has done is destroy my family. Why should I do anything for these men? I see a bright shiny medal on a man's coat jacket. Why would someone want to win a medal for killing another person? I shouldn’t be here, maybe the army guys got the wrong kid. There are plenty of boys much older than me that are stronger and better, than me. They could just do my job and I could go home and see my little sister and mom once again.