277 The Struggle

The fear, the scream, the struggle, the shock...

The fear, the scream, the struggle, the shock...

--"The Struggle" by Scroobius Pip

We all struggle, from that one spermatozoon fighting upstream to the ovum struggling to meet it halfway. From navigating our own limbic systems on the playgrounds with bullies about to competition in sports, business, and love. To disease and poverty.

I'm a war correspondent. I've seen it all. In Haifa, I've was assigned to report the October 7 attack and witness the aftermath in Gaza.

There are no age requirements for carnage--that I know.

We all live to die, but our big brains have somehow evolved to sidestep its value. "Life is cheap" is an aphorism that used to offend me, until I saw it as an epitaph on too many shallow graves.

Like surgeons making life-and-death decisions and watching their patients die right under their care, I've had to shelve my sense of pathos and file tragedy bureaucratically in a file labeled "T." It's a job--it's my job. And the job of hundreds of others who look with their eyes but turn a blind mind's eye.

The eyes are the hardest to forget, but forget I do, lest I take up arms myself. Which side wouldn't matter.

The Palestinian teen rides his bike, dodging the pot holes ballistically rendered. An Arabian darkling beetle is in mid-crossing of the road. One tire strikes its lower body.

There it is in the hot dirt: the fear, the scream, the struggle, the shock.

Its intact front legs attempt purchase at the gravel to propel it forward. It's pathetic. It knows it's dying, but it tries. Tries hard. Like its life depends on it. Stupid beetle.

Something rekindles in ancient parts of my brain which used to be connected to something like a conscience. How many bugs have I stepped on in my life. Certainly not more than the squashed here.

A rogue mortal bullet fells the boy:

The fear, the scream, the struggle, the shock.

It doesn't matter here--bug or boy. It's life that's the reserve price in life's auction.

I'm a journalist, not an entertainer, but breaking news is now entertainment. I can't do this anymore.

_________

AUTHOR'S NOTES:

For Tuesday, October 3, Day 277 of the 2024 Story-a-Day Challenge

366 WORDS (without A/N)

Accompaniment photo from the Scroobius Pip YouTube video.

ABOUT THE STORY

Life is a continuum, from single celled organisms to human mobs. I write this whilst under the damned COVID-19 affliction, documented by the two lines on the test. My creepy flesh feels like a total body bruise. My headache doesn't go away.

I struggle. Worse, theoretically, it could kill me. I am assured by professionals that has no chance of happening. But can you die from misery? Is struggle a continuum, too? Hey, I'm alive to wonder!

89 DAYS TO GO! THIS CHALLENGE HAPPENS DAILY, 366 WORDS PER TRAGIC DAY AT A TIME.

There are currently three (but two disease free, hopefully) Vocal writers in this sick 2024 Story-a-Day Challenge:

• L.C. Schäfer (Homeostatic)

• Rachel Deeming (Copacetic)

• Gerard DiLeo (Still contagious)