The flag said “Infection Zone."
“Severely hit by disease, mosquitoes related."
It was my dream, as a kid, to drive away the enemies.
Glory was said to taste just like cherry chocolate.
I walked into the city, notoriously crowded with everything.
After years of training, endless watching of campaigns on books and TV,
We were ordered to break into houses.
To spray gases till the smoke rose and filled the city.
To march on streets, however broken the sidewalks might be.
We must wipe out all the traces, those that made people sick.
All vehicles, they said, we must respect.
Specialized windshields were installed to increase the killing rate.
Precious waste gas was viewed as the best rival to date.
“Those who were hit served them just right," a comrade said.
He coughed as we crossed under green light, moving fast so as to not disturb the traffic.
Everyday at night, as I was lying in the makeshift bed, and trying to think,
Noise would interrupt me.
They said the enemies hid under the bed, in walls, and of course, outside in the streets.
“Be calm and pray, comrade," their encouraging words echoed,
“A strong mind is undoubtedly the greatest cure."
“December comes but winter not."
“Cut down the trees so the wind gets free."
“Would you bury me under the windswept willow tree."
“Bow down your head but never your spirit."
I listened to the same old music as I hit one blood sucker on my chin.
I had a nightmare.
I saw my own blood vaporized in the heat, sucked up by the city, after a car hit me.
Death was the only risk they couldn’t promise.
“It’s a trivial thing, death is," they said.
“Just as small as a mosquito could be."
“Which you might never ever see, but there’s no promise."
I saw the flag for the last time, when even dream started to fade away.
Instead of the warning, a figure smiled from the fluttering fabric.
Election day is coming. I thought.
I might finally be the king.
Deceased:
Sex: Male
Place Found: T Zone. Highly polluted area
Cause of Death: Disease, mosquitoes related
Date: December 7th
River on Baltic Sea 
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