Soldier Of God

~Prologue~

It all started in January. The economy was doing badly and our government was in complete ruins. A new year with new troubles. It wasn't long after New Years that our president turned against us. He formed an army against Christians, Catholics, Jews, and basically anyone who believed in God. I figured that he was against us since Christmas because he didn't want us to celebrate it or even have the word upon our lips. He said that he was afraid of all the fights and debates that it would stir up within other religions. Now that I think about it, he was probably against us from the very beginning but maybe that's because he is afraid of us.

Unfortunately, my family didn't handle everything well. The gas prices jumped three times the original amount which forced us to give up our cars. We got rid of our TV, microwave, dishwasher, washing machine, dryer, computers, and anything electronic. We had no contact with our relatives unless we spent the little money we had for paper and stamps that jumped to twenty dollars for fifteen. My parents were the only ones that went to work because I was fired when my boss found out that my family was Christian. But, that doesn't mean that I am a Christian, right? Truthfully, I am confused as to which side I belong to. Anyway, my parents take their old bicycles and ride themselves to the stores they work at. They used to work at major companies that were about thirty minutes to an hour away but, once the gas prices got higher, they were forced to quit and get closer jobs.

My brother, Josh, was in college. He was lucky that he got to go while we still had the money. I had to drop out of high school while my other brother, Erik, was allowed to continue until he graduated in one month. Then, in February, it became official that a war was going to take place. The Third World War to be exact. It was clear when the Disbelievers bombed Canada in the dead of night. That's a huge risk, if you ask me. It was that day that we were forced to choose who's side we were on. Disbelievers, that were mostly Atheists, Nazis, Buddhists, and Muslims. Or the Believers, that were Christians, Catholics, Jews, Mormons, or just about anybody that believed in Jesus Christ and his father.

The bombing raids continued in March. They hit all the way from Texas to Florida. I could never understand why they would bomb other places other than where the war was taking place but, I guess that's just the way it is. The war was in the one place I had always wanted to visit, Scotland. It used to be beautiful with green grass rolling over several hills and ancient castles unveiling the mystery of their history... Now though, I suspect it looks like a desert wasteland with bodies lying all around, gaping holes from bombs, and the towering castles in ruins like everything else. My mom prayed every night about the war but mostly, she prayed that the drafting system wouldn't come back and take my brothers.

I would watch her sometimes. I saw her silent tears streaming down her face while my dad gently rubbed her back. Her hands would be clasped together as they aimed toward the heavens. Slowly, I would step back and dismiss the entire thing. My country was being split, as well as my neighborhood. I would wake up in the morning to see trash on our lawn, our beautiful plants ripped out of the ground, and our house vandalized with graffiti. I read a piece of the trash and fell to my knees.

"Christian trash," "Christian B-----," "D--- Christians!" Man, what language! My mind blocked out the terrible words like a shield. Calmly, I picked up the trash, replanted the plants that were amazingly still intact, and washed the paint off of the house while my neighbors glares and sneers burned my neck. I wouldn't have been surprised if one of them tried to shoot me. When I finished cleaning the mess, I would look out to see the other vandalized homes. I could tell what their religions were by just staring at their yards; the word would be painted across their lawn and on their house. It might have been pointless to clean up the mess because I would have to clean it again the next day but I felt a certain sense of pride when I finished. I would smile to myself and quickly turn around to see if my neighbors were staring at me but, as usual, they were gone. Still, I knew they were there at one point because I could feel them. Their curtains would quickly close and their scuffling feet would rush them back to their homes.