Bullets whistled through the air, homing in on targets and sending blood spurting out of bodies. Corpses flying everywhere, soil defying gravity and whirling all over the place, this is what is known as a battle-field. Suddenly an innocent pacifist, who had been forced to take part in the war, dived for shelter, barging through a barricade of more vicious men who were dancing at the fact that they were causing so much damage. At that moment, I was shoved into the middle of the deadly area, guns letting off bullets that missed my head by a matter of millimetres. How could this be happening? Finally, to end my troublesome days, a bullet smashed into my head, exploding it into a million fragments. And then I was falling, falling through a darkness not worth describing.

Breathing, that was all that mattered. Sitting up on my bed at the crack of dawn, panting as if I was not a dog was not high on my priority list, but at least I was alive. It had all been a bad dream. THANK GOD!