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  • ~ Vin

Be(a)head

The war had just ended.

Puffs of smoke could be seen in the distance, our ruthless residue from firing against the enemy.

A calmness set in after battle.


Still in our armor, we began to search for the fallen.


The mountains stood serenely beneath a fresh blanket of snow.


Steam danced gracefully on the surface of the lake below.

Wading into the icy water, I followed my commander closely. Knee deep, he reached underneath its crystalline surface.

What emerged left me frozen in place.


I recognized the pallid and decapitated head to be one of our own. With eyes shut and lips sealed forever, his face merged with the whiteness around us.


I shivered. How many more of our men would we find? _________________________________________________________________________


I am hesitant to label this dream as a nightmare, although many would consider it just that.


The purity of the snow, the tranquility of the Mongolian mountainside, and an overwhelming sense of equanimity despite encountering a beheaded friend did not make this a nightmare.


It was a wake-up call.


How much longer was I willing to partake in a headless war against myself?


Negating my conscience.


Muting my heart.


My denial of self only served to make me a direct target in battle.


Suddenly unshackled from a cycle of perpetual self-sabotage, I accepted responsibility for my own beheading.


Attempting to Be ahead mistakenly led me to Be a head.



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