... Who Am I?...

	
	Dropped down in the middle of the night out of nowhere, in the jungle
 
of Brazil. Alone with one companion my only trusted and worthy friend. A 

messenger with message from death. Me, I have a mission to finish.

	
	The jungle has been my home for five years. I have seen many strange 

things here in the jungle, but nothing I can not handle. The moon gives off 

an eerie glow. The wind whispers of evil and temptations. The jungle, itself,
 
seems to be against mankind. The leaves, grasses, and vines rustle with the 

betrayal of my location to my enemies. The beasts of the jungle hiss, growl, 

snarl, and whine at me, threatening to harm me at any moment.

	
	I stop, to be quiet for a moment; the jungle finally quiets a little.
 
Nevertheless, the wind rises with a wailing voice, boasting of past deaths 

and evil deeds. I block it out for the sake of my sanity. I listen to my 

heart beating and my breathing to know I am still alive. I begin to crawl, 

and keep my messenger in front of me. I reach my position and wait.

	
	The position is four hundred yards from the bed of a river, 

deep in the still jungle. Rows of grasses, trees, and vines hide me 

protectively like a mother with newborn child. I don my make-up and some 

camouflage clothes. The wailing wind still pesters me. I lay before the 

nurturing vines and await. 

	
	The mission is clear: strike fast, strike hard, leave no witness, 

and fade away. My mission is to kill a person whom the world knows of, who 

is a wonderful and powerful politician. In the world of intelligence, he is a
 
druglord, responsible for many drug addicts in my home country. The law fails
 
to bring the man to justice. He is untouchable, so I am called in to give a 

message to him.

	
	Dawn begins to peek over the horizon in the deep jungle, time means 

nothing in the jungle. I still wait. From time to time, men walk by with a 

dearth aura surrounding them. They wear the symbol of the druglord caste. 

They do not know the messenger is trained upon them, waiting for unnecessary 

action. Even one who comes close, about twenty-five yards away from me, to 

take a nature's call, never sees me; I am one with the eerie jungle.

	
	For five years, I have been here. I remember the time I was young and
 
innocent. I joined the army to be a soldier, defending my country from 

enemies. I started with a test of marksmanship; I won, and still win, many 

marksmanship awards in tests.

	
	One night in my second year of service, during the Gulf War, a group 

of men ambushed my camp and kidnapped me. The world thought it was the Iraq 

soldiers that killed me, but it was my fellow soldier in a special covert 

operation squad. They bombarded me with question after question about my 

faith in my country. They let me live, and gave me new faith.

	
	Now, here am I, waiting to renew my faith in order, and my country. 

The dark covers me now. I welcome the darkness, for it is my ally and friend.
 
The jungle begins to come alive. Animals awaken, hungry for blood. They know 

me, and wait.

	
	Startled, I was, as the music blared over my head. I took the risk 

and looked at my watch. I have not eaten, slept, or moved for 48 hours. It 

was about midnight, I think. The yacht rolled in front of me. The yacht was 

rocking along with the merry music.

	
	I watched and waited. The yacht stopped. I found the target among the
 
targets. He was dancing with a young woman on his arm, and around him were 

sailors, guards, and women. I counted quickly; there were twenty-three people

I changed the ten bullets clip quietly to a twenty-five bullets clip.

	
	The messenger of my messages felt hot in my hand It spoke of a duty 

to finish, and duty to do it, now. The messenger spat forward messages of 

death toward the targets. The message was loud and clear. The hell has a 

shortage of damned souls and needed more. They welcomed death with merry 

hearts. Some of the merry people felled over the rail and down in the bloody
 
river, and nearby splashing spoke of animals, thanking the messages of death
 
for the flesh and the feasting.

	
	After the years nature spent, raising the people, it was ended 

instantly with a bullet, in a second, and a delivery of the message.

	

	I found my myself walking down a busy street in capital city of 

Brazil; people were running around, fanatically, with news that the 

president was dead. I looked at a news stand and pored over the headline. 

One struck me forcefully. I was to leave no witness, and I mean no witness. 

The headline said, " The now-known druglord, the Brazil president, found dead
 
with bullet in the head and the daughter of United States' president, dead on
 
his arms!"

	
	I found myself back in the jungle. With the messenger speaking of 

thanks to me, in smoke, I looked over my deed; everyone laid still in the 

yacht at the edge of the calm jungle. I knew what I had just done. Leave no 

witness! I suddenly let my guard down, in shock, and the wailing wind entered
 
my mind.


	"Who am I?", It spoke with my voice, from the grave.

	"John Demore"< I replied in a cool voice

	"No, who am I?" The tone of the voice deepened

	"The Messenger?" I whined a little

	"Who am I?" the voice quieted with a little snarl

	" A soldier, defending the honour of my country!" I spoke louder.

	"WHO AM I?!" it boomed in response.

	"I dunno, I DUNNO!, I dunno..." I began to break and wept for my past
 
deeds. The wailing wind laughed and left a message in my mind. It echoed the 

deeds in my mind again, and again, and again. The jungle had won....


" So it came to pass that
as he trudged from the place of blood
and wrath, his soul changed."

(Stephen Crane
"The Red Badge of Courage")