Home Articles / Poems The Front Line Odd Hour – Soul Baptism..

The Front Line Odd Hour – Soul Baptism..


My first kill was a little boy of about 9 years old. He was approaching my place with a suicide vest. The vest was primed with explosives and I guess he has been given the mandate to detonate near us. All efforts to stop him yielded to nought.

See, no matter how hardened you are, it takes a devilish guts to kill a child.

I looked at him, he was few meters away. I felt a cold wave of breeze over me. I tried to wave him to a stop but he wouldn’t. I saw the killer instinct in his innocent eyes.

I opened my mouth, swallowed hard and carefully raised my weapon. I closed my eyes for a split of seconds, he was closer this time. Last look, I saw a touch of naivety. I pitied him but he looked determined.

Carefully he slid his hands into his vest, he wanted to make sure that the switch is still intact before making a move.

A lone soul ready to kill a Section of us.

Suddenly, he started running towards our point. Again, I raised my weapon and prayed for forgiveness.

The shot from my weapon assisted his explosive laden vest and got him exploded. The impacted fragments flew towards our vase as we took cover behind a barrier.

Minutes later, he was still burning. When the fire subsided, his remains was just a charred meat and his juvenile whitish bone.

Days later, a blogger blogged it that ”an innocent boy who was sent on an errand was accidentally killed by a trigger happy soldier.”


Kolawole Oludare Stephen

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