Early birds sing outside my window. Shafts of pale moonlight fade into the gray pre-dawn of another day. Not that I can see much through the high barred slats. Just enough to know there is another world beyond my dim, cramped cell.

Somewhere a drum rolls. A bugle plays reveille. Fragrant aromas waft in from the campfires. My stomach rumbles. I ignore it. A tear slides down my cheek. There’ll be no food for me. I’ve made my choice. The only one I could make.

Even now, I still can’t believe it. They all knew how I felt. I’d registered as a conscientious objector. They didn’t care. They wanted me to fight anyway. I tried to explain that if I fought I’d destroy the earth and everything on it. They didn’t believe me.

They laughed.

And gave me a gun. But I wouldn’t use it. The risk is too great. They cajoled and they wheedled. Promised me fame and fortune, if I’d cooperate. But I wouldn’t.

I ran.

They caught me.

That’s why I’m here.

Waiting for death.

They gave me a gun. But I took the world.