It used to be a land of milk and honey. People lived happily and peacefully. They had castor-sugar-like beach, sapphiric ocean, innumerable fish and coconut palms laden with fruit. Peace was spelled everywhere, until the war broke out.
The proud coco trees fell down in furious shellfire. Coconuts exploded everywhere, the milky flesh charred and black. People fell one by one, until finally there was nothing but bodies lying on the beach. The shore was no longer immaculate. The blood-red liquid flooded everywhere. Wave after wave, the lily-white foreshore was dyed pink.
Among the numerous still bodies, lay a young soldier. His once handsome face was now blackened and stained with blood. There was a slight frown on his face that was so feeble that it could hardly be noticed. But he did frown, and finally, he came to himself.
He felt a blunt headache like his brain was going to split. The air had a mixed smell of gun powder and blood. He was famished. He remembered he didn’t have anything to eat since the battle started, and he had no idea how long he had been in a coma. As he tried to open his eyes, extreme dizziness hit him. He took a deep breath and gave it another try. A desperate scene unfolded as he slowly opened his eyes. He saw nothing but dead bloody bodies. People lay in a haphazard fashion; some with eyes open, some without arms or legs. He heard a slight sound which seemed like groaning. Someone is still alive! He thought. He strived to get up, but his body didn’t cooperate. He felt his legs. Luckily, they were still there, but they couldn’t feel anything and were ice-cold. The sound died down bit by bit. It was getting quiet. He yelled for help, but he could hear nothing but his own voice. It was deathly silent.
Eventually, he gave up.
The sun was setting. He stared at the golden clouds. The scene in the sky was so gorgeous while that on the land was so miserable. What was the point of the war, he couldn’t help wondering.
He thought about home. The scene of his leaving for war soon after his baby was born, crying and wet, flashed through his mind. She didn’t have a name yet. They were waiting for him to come back and name her. It was the first time that he really understood the word—hopeless. And he suddenly came up with a name. Olive, her name will be Olive... because it means peace.
He closed his eyes as his strength slowly drained away. His mouth felt salty and bitter, he couldn’t tell whether it was blood or tears.
Peace must be wailing at the sight of bloodshed and death, and probably so was Olive.