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Monsters like me

Copyright (c) Richard J Price 2003
All Rights Reserved


Am I listening with my heart, or are her words echoing around my
brain, rattling like a bullet in a biscuit tin, rattle, rattle,
rattle, trying to find meaning, rattle, rattle, rattle, translating
into a language whose forms I recognise, words, sentences,
paragraphs, creating symbols, series of symbols into actions, cause
and effect, green light go, red light stop,rattle, rattle.

As a child I was afraid of the dark, Now I'm afraid of everything.

But mostly I'm afraid of myself.

Not the reflection myself I see in the mirror,
For I know, that is but a mask.
Flesh is a disguise, a tan camouflage that hides the faceless and
formless monster that is my real self. Bones upon which it gives
itself shape, sinew and fat, to bulk out the all concealing skin.

Hidden, behind this face is a monster. An evil devil creature capable
of inflicting the greatest of evils upon its brothers and sisters.
A destroyer.
A devourer of souls.
A killer and rapist.

I hear her voice but how can I ever answer? What words can ever make
her understand?
What words?

"Speak, Amjad, Speak.

Amjad, what is wrong?
Today you are as cold and as quiet as the grave.
And your complexion,
You're as grey as the sea on a stormy day.

Amjad, is there something the matter?
You are as still as a statue.
Please say something.
Do something.
Say something.
Do something.
Please.

Amjad, you are ill.
You need to see someone.
You have been like this for weeks.
Not eating,
Not sleeping,
Not talking.
Just sitting and staring at nothing.

Sometimes I wonder if you can hear me.

Please Amjad.
Please.

You've been like this ever since you got back.
Home from the war."


Yes, the war.
The precious war.
The War that turned soldiers into cripples,
Woman and children into corpses,
And boys into men.

But what kind of men?

Monsters like me?



There were no soldiers in the village.
Just frightened old men, and women and children.
We had no orders to kill anybody, just to camp there.
For one night.

One soldier was being kept awake by the crying of a baby.
So he went into a house, and taking the baby, he threw it into the
camp fire.
I watched, blankly.
The babys mother tried to reach into the flames, she was screaming
but made no sense.
Three soldiers pulled her out of the fire.
She would have been better off if they left her to burn.
They had their fun, and bored, they called another soldier,
A boy of 16 over.

"Go on fuck her" they said.
"Fuck her", over and over again, a chant,
Joined by all the soldiers in chorus,
"Fuck the bitch, fuck the bitch, fuck the bitch".

"Prove you're a man"

The boy fucked her and then, urged by his Sergeant he rammed his AK47
into her cunt and fired.

The rest of the villagers were dragged from their houses.
Some were shot on the spot.
Others, including the children, were raped.

Soon the only sounds were the crackling of the fire and the
whimpering of the dying.

I didn't sleep at all that night.
In the morning I found the girl whose baby they had burned.
She was still alive but weak,
And her mouth made no sound but a croak as her lips begged me...
'Please.....please....'
I shot her in the head.

I tell myself there was nothing I could have done.
If I had intervened my corpse would have joined theirs.
None of this would have been prevented.
My own wife a widow, and nothing gained.
My wife, a good and loving woman.
The woman with the baby perhaps a good woman too?

My wife sees me as a hero,
Returned from war where I fought for virtue,
Gods war, against the evil unbelievers.
There are no words to make her understand,
Nothing I do, nothing I say.....
I hear her.

"Amjad.
Please,.....please....."