One day, these people said to me that I had won a free holiday to
Vietnam. I couldn’t wait. I’d heard lots of great things about that country.
Unfortunately though, I couldn’t take my family because it was only directed at
me. I love my family. My wife and two kids. I can’t ask for anymore. As I was
packing my bags I thought, why was it only directed at me, why can’t I take my
family?
The flight I was catching was very early in the morning so I
left my family a note to say goodbye and headed off to the airport, leaving
them to sleep peacefully. As I got on the plane, I realised that there were lots
of other guns just like me. Then I thought why are there heaps of
other both mentally and physically strong guns, just like me but from across the
nation? Like they want us to do something that would be too challenging for
other guns to do.
As I arrived in Vietnam these people took me from a box and
loaded me and these other guns in a truck. As the truck was moving I noticed
that Vietnam had a lot more violence than what people had told me, like there
was some sort of crime wave happening. As I looked around, I could see bombs going
off, people shooting at each other. Then I realised that this was no holiday,
this was a war.
How dare those people trick me against my will by saying that
this was some sort of holiday? Who do they think I am? Hey, who’s carrying me now? Get your dirty
hands off me! I was getting so angry that the rage I was talking about earlier
was filling me up again. We all know what's going to happen next.
And what just happened? I’m fine now and I’ll expect the
situation I’m in but I think I let off one of my missiles. It’s OK though
because it doesn’t hurt anybody. I looked around to see this poor man lying on
the ground dead. Who dared do this? That poor man probably had a family who
loved him and he loved back and now some sick-minded thing killed him. As I
looked closer, I realised it had the same coding I had on me. No you don’t mean.
Oh my god, I just killed a poor and innocent man. Those horrible things I was
saying about the killer was about me - I’m a killer.
Why did I do that? I need to go back home. I miss my family
and my home. ‘Hey you’! I said aggressively to the person carrying me, ‘take me
home right now or you know what’ll happen’. He just ignored me, like he
couldn’t hear a word I said. 'Don’t ignore me or I’ll...!'
And what happened? I must have let off my anger again. I
hope I didn’t hurt anybody. I look around and see another dead person. No,
why again? Why have I done it again? Please, I’m begging you to leave me alone
now; I don’t want to kill anybody. Leave me alone I say, I don’t want to let
out my anger again, get off me now before I...
I woke up and saw another dead person. I knew it was me. Why
do I keep doing this? It’s almost like they made me to kill. I know it’s an
awful thing to do but I have an addiction for murder, I want to kill.
For the next couple of months while the war is on, I kill anyone in front me, not because that’s what I think is right but I just
can’t contain myself.
One day I just felt myself fall onto the floor and I stayed
there. ‘Come back here!’ I cried, ‘How dare you just leave me here now? I want to
kill more people!’ But that was the last I was going to see of
him.
I lay on the field for 20 years. Have I changed? No, I’m
just planning my next attack. Finally, I saw someone coming to get me. He must
be my new owner, thank you. I’m going to kill again. He put me into a plane and
I was taken to a place called ‘England’. Well, England, get ready for hell.
Once I got to my destination I realised we were at some sort
of museum. Great - an assassination where nobody expects it. The museum I was taken
to was called the ‘Pitt Rivers’. I was then put into this box and left there.
'Get me out of here so that I can kill!’ I shouted. Nobody listened to me, just like when I
was fighting. I looked up and it said ‘Gun Insane Asylum’. Insane, I am no such
thing.
It has been 20 years since I was first put here and I have
realised that I shouldn’t have done what I did in Vietnam. I try to tell the
people I’m better now but they don’t listen to me. I miss my family and home.
Please, next time you see me please save me and take me back home where I
belong.
by Jacques Michael
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