Awrite, I'm back to posting (kinda) with something that I've been wanting to do for YONKS, but have never actually gotten around to doing due to a number of *mumble* Anyway. Updates will be the slowest you've ever dared to imagine.

There happens to be someone on the site known by 'teh awesum' - or otherwise 'Razer Athane' - and even though it won't be much without her input (t'was gonna be a co-op, but alas I shall murder anything good that could have possibly come out of this idea), every word of this is dedicated to her. Because she's just awesome like that. OH! It's also her birthday. Go wish her a good one :)

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I

Five minutes.

My eyes begin to tense. My head, positioned stiffly straight ahead, does not move even the slightest bit to the right to better aid my vision. I strain for a while longer to watch the slow movement of the hands on my neighbour's wristwatch. I already realise how blighted my vision will be once I look forward again, but I do not move. I am not allowed to.

The night's dead silence envelopes myself and the tens of other men standing in the vicinity. It sickens me, both mentally and physically. Silence. It keeps us in our confines, it disables our creativity. Humans weren't made without vocal chords to speak.

Four minutes.

I chose now to snap my eyes shut and bring them forward; they really hurt, and I don't want to risk being found out for impatience, impudence, impertinence or whatever else they can drag out from nowhere to make my life just that much more pitiful.

As I look straight ahead my eyes meet the nameless, expressionless faces of the soldiers before me. They may as well be statues draped in official uniform. If they ever talked, they could speak of their true feelings. If only they were to move, they could look proud, patriotic. But they don't.

Humans weren't made without nerves to move.

Three minutes.

One hundred and eighty seconds and I'll age a full year. Seems pathetic really, that so much life can be added to an existence, especially when you know first-hand how all of it can be taken away in exactly the same amount of time.

You see, such an incident occurred not a week ago. Having lived in the same house since their marriage, my parents settled down and had two children, me the eldest. And despite how much they hated it here, they understood early on that moving away would be futile. Fatal, even.

In any case, they had become as comfortable in their home as could be expected under the circumstances. Our neighbours were friendly. They had one son, my senior by a year, who went by the name Jae Hwa. And to cut a gruelling story short, word of Jae Hwa's father and his open opinions of our Dear Leader travelled to unwanted ears. Fidelity personified, was Jae Hwa, and whether or not that was a good thing... well, while I'd like to say I'd do the same thing, I'm not sure if I actually would.

Jae Hwa died so that his father would be spared. His persecutors were more than aware of the fact, but they wouldn't have cared if they were "fulfilling their assigned duty" onto a child; as long as it was done, that's all that mattered. I'm positive people were there as he got taken away. I'm certain even his father kept his mouth shut because "it is better to lie twice than to admit to a lie."

I had a friend called Jae Hwa, who died because people looked away.

Humans weren't made without eyes to see.

Two minutes.

The cries of Jae Hwa's distraught mother ring out through every night since his death. They haunt my thoughts almost as terribly as his half-smiling face does.

We do only as we are told, not because we know no better but because we close our ears to reasoning. Why should people question the words of the greatest man to ever grace our lands? Why would there be a problem with the non-stop worship and dedication he demands?

No. Why do we sing the anthems and not hear the words' true meaning? Why do we ignore the panicked cries of truth?

Humans weren't made without ears to listen.

One minute.

And we all hear the cries of a grieving parent, an orphaned child, a friendless citizen; it has become part of our daily routine. And it is so routine no one even cares anymore. There is a whole world outside of these borders we guard with our lives – a world where people can feel sympathy, do have compassion. Cold, unwhispering, unwavering beings we as a nation have become. This isn't how we were born, not how we're supposed to be. I'm sure of it.

Humans weren't made without hearts to feel.

Midnight. Happy Birthday, Dear Hwarang.

And as I raise the submachine gun to eye height in one swift, practiced motion and pull the hammer down with unsuppressed force, the same thought as always runs hopelessly through my head. I desperately want to scream it for the whole world to hear. The sound of a hundred bullets simultaneously rushing through the air shatters the silence. I guess I preferred the quiet. Jae Hwa's face breaks my clear vision.

Humans were made to live.

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Oh my, what a sexy little review button.