The Story of War and Peace
There was once two people called War and Peace. They were complete opposites. War was a recalcitrant, obnoxious old man - very much set in his ways, keen to see others suffer for their actions -, yet in spite of his pugnacious schemes and undoubtable narcissism, it did not stop people listening to him- admiring him even. Peace, on the other hand, was a kind, benevolent woman who saw the world in colour and saw the best in everyone and everything. Although they could not be more different, there was one thing War and Peace had in common. And that was their shared desire for power, to rule over the people of the land.
Overtime, they had both gained their own supporters, but no one could decide who should rule. So for some time, War and Peace worked alongside each other. To say they became friends would be going a little far, but it is safe to say they were neither friend nor foe. But like anything, it would not last. The problem was War and Peace had completely contrary visions of how the world should be. Peace wanted a world of equality and harmony, meanwhile War wanted a world of hatred, justice and suffering. Day by day, War's ego grew and his power and fortune soon began to go to his head. He believed the only way to sort the world's issues out was to fight. And to kill.
It was one day when War killed an innocent man, that Peace put her foot down. She told him exactly what she thought of him, that he was a wicked, heartless monster that should burn in hell. It was true. But War would not listen. He slapped Peace across the face. She recalled backwards, her cheek blazing with a pain so powerful, so fierce, so sharp. Alas, that was what War did- inflict pain.
They quarrelled for days and days, until finally, War declared they would settle their differences in a game of cards. Whoever won, would rule, and whoever lost, would not interfere with the other's dominion. Peace agreed to meet him at his castle on Friday evening. And that, was that.
As War sat at the vast dining room table, waiting for Peace's arrival, a half empty bottle of Whisky in front of him, he was almost celebrating his victory. It was known throughout the land that War was unbeatable. Not one had succeeded in beating War at a game of cards. War was certain he would win. He could feel it, burning through him. He poured himself another celebratory glass and raised it to his lips, tipping his head back, as he swigged the dark liquid.
At that moment, Peace walked in. She pulled herself a chair and sat opposite War, her arms folded, a tenacious glint in her eye.
"You came," War sneered superciliously, draining his glass. Peace said nothing. "This is pathetic. You know I will win. But all the same, it would give me great satisfaction to see you lose," War went on. Peace still did not utter a word. "You are powerless Peace..."
"Play on War. I do not wish to hear your quite frankly monotonous lectures," Peace cut in coldly, fixing him with a glare.
"Alright. Have it your way," he replied coolly.
Without a word, War shuffled the cards and the game began.
That night, War played poorly. He could not understand it. He was the best: there was no doubt about that. But that night, he played the worst he had ever played in all his days. His increasing fury did nothing but hinder his performance further.
It was clear Peace had won, but War was a bad loser and he would not accept defeat. He accused Peace of cheating, even though anyone could tell Peace had not. War was so livid, he pummelled the table-top with his fists, hurled the cards across the room, then the empty Whisky bottle, all the while screaming and staggering, his eyes wild and bloodshot.
Peace watched him silently. The cards lay scattered and torn across the grey, stone floor.
When War had finally stopped, he scowled. And then his face cleared to triumph. Even though he had lost, nobody would have to know that, would they? If only he could just get Peace out the picture, then everything would be solved.
He knew he could not kill her outright: that would only cause an outrage on his doorstep from the woman's supporters and he didn't want that. So what could he do?
And then it hit him. He didn't have to kill her: he just had to find a way of getting rid of her, so there was no way she could be elected. What was that old fairytale? Ahh, yes. Sleeping Beauty.
"You think you've won Peace," he smirked. "but trust me Madam, you haven't. This isn't over." And as he spoke, he cast a charm on her, which plunged her into a deep, dreamless sleep. Her head lulled.
War hid her in the depths of the castle, in the suffocating, tenebrous blackness of the Whisky cellar.
Many of her supporters came protesting to the castle in search of Peace, but War's growing army simply drove them away. As far as the world was concerned, Peace had fled. After losing the game, she had vanished.
Every day, his army was multiplying and he became more ruthless and reckless. The world forgot how to love and to cherish, but learned to hate and to fight. And all the while, innocent lives and the liberty of so many was being so cruelly stolen, yet still, they did not cease.
And so it goes on. With every breaking dawn, Peace is growing in strength. One day she will wake up and she will open her eyes to this hellish reality that we live in. Slowly but surely, she will rise to her feet and she will throw open the cellar door. She will ascend the crumbling steps into the light, her head held high, not faltering, not hesitating once. She will stride along the hallway past the grand staircase to where War's big coat hangs from a peg with his great hobnail boots and his rifle placed below it. Calmly, she will pick up his rifle and march towards the ajar, dining room door. War will be sitting - now, a wrinkled miserable old man -, at the vast, dining room table, a half empty bottle of Whisky in front of him, a pack of Solitaire spread, strewn across the table. He will sit slumped, his head averted, oblivious to the figure who looms above him. Peace will look down at him, at the man who has inflicted such unimaginable pain, such suffering, such inhumane cruelty to the human race.
She will lift the rifle. He will look up to meet her gaze, his eyes shining with... with terror.
And then, finally, taking a sharp intake of breath for courage, she will pull the trigger. And end it all.
I hope to see that day when War crumples to the ground. Lost. Beaten.
Defeated.
You might be thinking, surely Peace killing War makes Peace bad? Perhaps you're right. But in this world, we cannot be peace makers by simply sitting back and doing nothing. That certainly may be peaceful, but it does not solve anything.
It is the peace makers and the peace keepers of our world - the followers of our dear friend Peace - who will help end this hell.
Today, the world we live in is a dark, angry, black-and-white world of danger and terror and conflict, which is somehow wildly colourful and vibrant in all its raw and savage beauty. It is a world of both love and hate, and of both water and fire. A world of both rights and wrongs, and of both liberty and captivity. A world of both angels and monsters, within a world of humanity. And a world throbbing with such undying life, yet a world as still as death.
I hope to break that line which separates good from bad, and the protects the good from evil. And by breaking that divide, I want to make humanity at peace and harmony with one another. The evil, and the poison, within our world is, fortunately, in the minority, but it still exists. Every day on the news, I see how worse the world is becoming, how reckless and inhumane some humans are becoming. And whether that may be a human taking advantage of their free will and power, by harming the environment, or another's life, the world is getting more ruthless and barbaric every day. There are so many innocent lives that are being put in danger. Yet, although we know this, not a lot has changed. Many people think that the world has gone through too much suffering for it to ever be whole again. Yes, the world's scars, etched by humanity, may be the darkest and deepest of them all, but I believe those scars can be healed, and the only way we can heal them is to look at history's mistakes to prevent continuity of repeated events. And the time to start, is now. Otherwise, if we don't do something soon, the future generations will lose the values and rights of humanity, that are currently being destroyed by other individuals as we speak. We must learn to live with one another and accept our differences, and eventually, create a world of just one race: human.
I know that writing this story won't change the world drastically. And I know that our campaign won't end the terrible war and conflict going on in Syria, which has stolen so many innocent lives. But I hope it will change and make an impact on the way people think about world peace and unity. Personally, I do not think it is impossible. I believe we can reach that world of peace. But until we all start believing, that vision cannot come to life. So please: think. It's time we start now, before it is too late.