Sometimes I sit and wonder about the evil that is bestowed upon us today. The many tyrannies that have fallen and arose throughout history.
I hold in my possession, a symbol of evil. A bayonet from WW2.
Now, a simple bayonet at that, but looks can be deceiving. If one could look, they would simply see a tool, a weapon. Not much of thought comes to mind but, "This is old, and cool to have." That may be true, but at least take the time to look deeper.
This item holds evil. It was forged from Nazi steel, created to cause pain, suffering, "order," and violence. If ghosts could haunt such an item, there would be countless, perhaps even hundreds.
This item, as we call it, a bayonet, has jabbed, stabbed, and maimed all that it has been directed to. The various individuals in which it found itself in, have not entirely done anything wrong, they were just simply in the wrong place at the wrong time.
I've often wondered about the stories this bayonet could tell, if it could even tell stories. It doesn't even have to talk to actually tell the stories. It screams at me, it yells at me. It calls me names, mocks me, and reticules me, by its very presence.
The evil this object holds, the ghosts it allows to haunt it, it's all a part of a gruesome story that history painfully remembers.
Now, it's not the bayonet's fault that it was used for such evil, it was just a product of it's environment. There's honestly no telling how many people died. Possibly kids? Mothers? Fathers? Either way, these people were loved by someone, and this object, or may I say, individual who held it, took their lives from them, possibly instantaneously.
The dead cannot speak, but they could try. To us, the dead can only listen. The bayonet of Nazi Germany, the same bayonet that my Great Grandfather pulled off of a dead German, the very German that my Great Grandfather killed, is in my possession. The same bayonet who claimed the lives of many. The same bayonet that accompanied the vicious German, with blood lust in his eyes. The same bayonet with the brand of evil.
I have it.
I hold in my possession, a symbol of evil. A bayonet from WW2.
Now, a simple bayonet at that, but looks can be deceiving. If one could look, they would simply see a tool, a weapon. Not much of thought comes to mind but, "This is old, and cool to have." That may be true, but at least take the time to look deeper.
This item holds evil. It was forged from Nazi steel, created to cause pain, suffering, "order," and violence. If ghosts could haunt such an item, there would be countless, perhaps even hundreds.
This item, as we call it, a bayonet, has jabbed, stabbed, and maimed all that it has been directed to. The various individuals in which it found itself in, have not entirely done anything wrong, they were just simply in the wrong place at the wrong time.
I've often wondered about the stories this bayonet could tell, if it could even tell stories. It doesn't even have to talk to actually tell the stories. It screams at me, it yells at me. It calls me names, mocks me, and reticules me, by its very presence.
The evil this object holds, the ghosts it allows to haunt it, it's all a part of a gruesome story that history painfully remembers.
Now, it's not the bayonet's fault that it was used for such evil, it was just a product of it's environment. There's honestly no telling how many people died. Possibly kids? Mothers? Fathers? Either way, these people were loved by someone, and this object, or may I say, individual who held it, took their lives from them, possibly instantaneously.
The dead cannot speak, but they could try. To us, the dead can only listen. The bayonet of Nazi Germany, the same bayonet that my Great Grandfather pulled off of a dead German, the very German that my Great Grandfather killed, is in my possession. The same bayonet who claimed the lives of many. The same bayonet that accompanied the vicious German, with blood lust in his eyes. The same bayonet with the brand of evil.
I have it.
