Born into Oppression

This was my career, I was a professionally trained informant. On my first mission, I ended up having to arm myself after my transportation convoy was ambushed. Me and a few of my men escaped the ambush only to stumble into a part of war that we were not ready for. Running through wet grass we crossed paths with children and families seeking refuge. One of the children had been bleeding after falling from a fence into my arms. I began to comfort him.

“Little child don’t give up, I hear you crying,” I said comforting him rushing him to safety.

It turns out that we escaped right into a nearby refugee camp run by peacekeepers. Me and my men were determined to help. We introduced ourselves to the peacekeepers and vowed to help them so we called for backup and I volunteered to go out to try and save more people. I pulled my binoculars out only to notice the diabolic militant army dragging more people into the death chambers. “Oh my God, they’re burning and hanging them. ‘People!’”

I felt compelled by some unusually good force to dive right in and help. Noticing some of my men being dragged into the torment from the ambush, I fell to my knees in the pouring rain. All I could hear was screaming. Women being beaten until numb while the soldiers threw their children into the torture chambers. This was wild.

I sat in my safe zone trembling reaching for my gun.

The torture zone was fenced in with a small hole where some people had escaped. The screams grew louder as I got closer. 

“Oh God, this is a death camp. This is hell on earth.

This supremacy thing has gone a bit too far,” these were the thoughts that kept flowing through my mind.

“These people are exterminating races of human beings. This is crazy!”

Falling to the ground, dirty from heavy rainfall and sick to my stomach from the smell of human flesh being burned, the sound of children screaming echoed through my ear drums. Children from every creed and race except one.

I called for backup, I thought I’d been spotted. 

I had to regain my balance while shifting my attention to all of the human bones thrown in a large hole in the ground.

I then throw-up falling to my knees again.

I could hear footsteps getting closer but I didn’t see anyone.

The screaming got even louder.

There’s no luck in this camp, there’s no good, only torment and vibes of evil oppression.

At the moment I’m the only hope for these people.

They’ve been hiding only to get caught;

Screaming only to be tortured.

Begging for God’s help only to be shown no mercy.

I’m the hero in this story, this story has no end nor beginning. It only has a place in history. This death camp was all these people knew. The fact is that these human beings were being used, abused and exterminated. The moment we made it out we all became survivors, traumatized, never to forget. These kids and families out here had been born into oppression. This was all they knew, nothing more, in their mind they never comprehended triumph only torment.