Disclaimer: I own nothing. JK rules the literature world...for now! MWAHAHA
War. Bloodshed, lives lost, and hearts broken. The past was in the past and the future is what lies ahead, but this had never happened before in our world. People fought; there were illegal curses that were used, but nothing like this.
Over twenty years ago there was a war, a quiet war, but none-the-less a war. It had been snuffed out, the flames dimmed to a mere spark, until someone came along and kindled that long burnt out spark until it was feeding off of everyone else’s lives.
War was dangerous, no matter what side your feet were planted on. But when you were the one feeding the flame, you were always burnt in the process. Blisters turned into open wounds and then into scars; scars that would forever tell me of my mistakes, pains and pleasures.
In a sick and twisted way it seemed that it would be a good thing. When you’re constantly reminded of the past history is less likely doomed to repeat itself. Unfortunately when everyday reminders haunt my past, present, and future it tends to eat your soul, piece by piece, memory by memory. And history always seems doomed to repeat itself.
The ones I loved most were constantly thrown into my memory, providing a gory detail of the moments leading to their death. Their love seems so significant now that I am the only one left. Things never used to be like this. There was a time when God had intended for sinners to repent, and all souls to live in heaven.
Unfortunately when war was a factor more souls tended to be eaten alive by the burning flames of hell, while the souls that drifted to heaven left behind loved ones that were now distraught over their unexpected and unnecessary death.
The real world is different than what you had always thought as a youngster. I learned that the hard way. No matter how hard I tried to see the best in people they all had their bad sides. The sides that made me want to shrivel up and die alone in a deserted forest.
I never tried to see the best in people, and I never looked for the worst either. First impressions are everything. They tell you about a person’s background, their heritage, and their status in the community. First impressions also tell you what side of the war they are on. That was all the information I ever needed. I didn’t need to know their likes, and dislikes. They were completely irrelevant to the looming war ahead, nor did I care.
I only had one thought on my mind twenty four hours a day, seven days a week. Kill him; kill the sadist creature that caused so much pain and grief over the past few decades. It was the only thought I concentrated on. Kill Voldemort.
I didn’t stop to smell the roses, I hardly laughed anymore, and when I did it was more like an evil chuckle. My mind was crumbling to pieces while I continued to build the walls around me.
I didn’t notice. I didn’t notice that the more people who died, the more distraught I became. The angrier I became the less I realized what was happening before my eyes.
We killed each other’s ranks, our followers, and our friends. When he would strike, I would lash out for revenge. It was like the war was becoming something like a petty school yard fight. Only the difference stood farther apart.
You were either on my side, or on his side. There was no in-betweens, anyone in between was killed by either my side or his. The more bloodshed in this war, the more power hungry I became. I didn’t notice when my loved ones shrank away from me. I didn’t notice when my wife slept in a different room, and I didn’t notice the person I was becoming.
War changes a person, for the better or the worse. Change is something that you have to live with and I despised change. I didn’t hate it, I wanted to kill it. I wanted to rip its’ insides apart, burn the scattered pieces and watch in glory as I accomplished the impossible. It was ruining my life -at least that’s what I thought was ruining my life.
I alone was the person ruining my life; I was the one who caused all this change, and all the bloodshed and death was my fault. This war was between Voldemort and me, only others had been dragged into its clutches from our fear and distain. Our pathetic, cowardly revenge killed hundreds of thousands of innocent people. Lives could have been spared. Hearts could have been mended. But it was too late to reconcile.
The past is in the past, and the future holds nothing to offer. I had killed the enemy, defeated them. I had stomped out their existence, but in the process I had unknowingly killed the ones I loved.
I unknowingly erased my memories; one by one, they fell into the bottomless pits of hell where they were sucked up and eaten. Every time I lost someone I had loved, another piece of my soul slipped away into the unknown depths of faded memories until there was nothing left.
The flames of hell licked my feet daily. I had been no better than my enemy, yet no worse. When one person is cursed, two graves are dug. And I had willingly dug my own grave as I watched others around myself fall.