Cosmic Creations Edition #3 [Inspired By Music] | Alien Art Hive Contest

I woke that next morning. The sun just risen shone gently on the city streets, bringing with it a false sense of security. Digging my fingers deep within the dirt wall of entrenchment, I hoisted myself up and looked back into the short distance, spotting the remnants of destruction. Despair was slow to set in, but it quickly gained ground.

I had to see if the fighting was worthy of my sacrifice.

Watching in deadened horror, the city's pavement disappeared as a clutter of wounded soldiers and armor lay in heaps.

Silver, red, gray and black were the new colors of what was once a large and teeming metropolis, which became the arena for a cruel and unjustifiable war. But that was my opinion.

The aroma of decay waffled in on the tide of already overwhelming pollution and strangled my breath. First time on the battlefield. Expectations with visions of screams of the hurt and hurting in unimaginable agony, I was utterly confused by the quiet.

A battalion of separatists, including male and female, and an army of loyalists fought each other because of a heightened sense of betrayal.

I was among the loyalists.

The righteous many who condemned the subdued few. But it became clear which side of the argument would win. The dead and wounded of the righteous losing side clad in black and green national hues were spread around the edges of the city.

The toll on both natural and human resources was tragically on display for the rest of the world to observe. It will more than likely take time long past my age to adulthood before this city will recapture its once glorious status.

No longer able to hoist myself, I slid back into the trench. Staring at the dark soil opposite, I requested and received a smoke, understanding that it may be my last.

If you would have asked my comrade huddled close after watching the horror of war whether his sacrifice was worth it, he'd say with certainty and conviction, "yes, without a doubt".

If you would have asked me, I would respond slowly after coughing up a chunk of red sputum with a choked breath, "it was not!".

With that, I longed for the end of this conflict.

Shadows of a now distant past flooded my thoughts.

For as long as I could recall, we were warned of the existing peril. We had no other choice than to hear daily the battle cry Unity at all costs that was prevalent as the head of the country sought to gird up and equip his followers with sufficient angst and outrage.

He had to. What other means at his disposal would counteract the opposition's battle hymn "freedom at all costs".

The propaganda he spread predicting the impending doom lingered and blossomed. Every move we made calculated to the seconds so our paths remained undetectable.

The opposition was clever, especially displaying their guerilla tactics.

My parents hid the truth. I wanted to fault them, but the truth as they were forced fed all culminated into an even sinister lie. One that benefited only the Supreme Commanders quest for power, not only in his own country, but over others as well.

In the end, it may have cost us our world.

Although I was not yet of age, I was pressed into service. To be part of the solution, rang steadily in my ear.

Heading heart first into the battlefield with only half the truth was like going out into the world naked, unprepared for the retribution.

It didn't take me long to realize I was fighting against myself.

Reconfigured to emulate a fortress, the city resembled a fortified castle with an array of guards posted at critical intervals lining the zone while awaiting the march of enemies toward its gates.

The only semblance of normalcy lay behind the blockades. A death trap awaited anyone courageous enough to climb the ten foot electromagnetic fencing. Unfortunately, our unit received word that a small group of mercenaries cut power at the source long enough to assist a few hundred escaping captivity toward the outer rim.

Others penetrated the barrier and ran toward the fighting. I feared my friend, Ludvang among those who joined the opposition, had now entered the city.

That's when the thought hit me that I forgot to prepare my mask. What should have been automatic, hadn't registered. Thrown into battle with only a week's preparation, my mind hadn't switched from peacetime and boyhood.

Being able to handle the deadly gases that were reportedly confiscated and could possibly be unleashed was primary and pivotal to the enemies' maneuvering capabilities. They would turn the Supreme Commander's weapon against him.

Enemies. These were my brethren. We once laughed and frolicked together. My hands shook violently.

Lines had been drawn as far back as I could recall. Whose side struck first did not seem to matter. Destruction casts no blame. If I could claim credit for my side's part in the aftermath, it would be protecting what was. At least, what we'd known all our lives.

An unknown ageless weapon being promoted shook our core. Little did we know the equipment to be dropped upon our heads was no more than predictions from another time.

"Have you identified the secret weapon reportedly to be unleashed tomorrow in the second phase?" General Uzeollo didn't look up from his map spread across the table.

I stood behind my father out of sight as he nodded in the affirmative.

Peeking through his arms planted firmly on his hips, I noticed red circles prominently displayed on the large area of paper. Strategic placement of underground tanks, the knowledge of which, he explained to me in private.

His response did not surprise me. "Just waiting for the plan to surround them with special explosive devices. My son, Jessot, already helped secure small containers infused with oil-advanced incendiary materials."

My father turned and smiled, as any proud parent would.

Interrupting the meeting, heavy-set older gentleman with numerous stripes on his black uniform yelled, "what the hell? How did the despots know our every move?" Just got word of a raid on our storage units in which only a few were privy.

All eyes turned in my direction.

One among us carried deception in his heart. I was sure of one thing...I was not the culprit.

I believed in the cause because my father believed in the cause because he believed in the deliverer of the cause. The Supreme Commander.

But I knew who the culprit was, and still I did not report my best friend, Ludvang.

The battle raged fierce for months. On the final day, the unthinkable happened. All scrambled for cover as a barrage of weapons descended upon the city.

^Source

As I hunched in the shallow bunker, I cast a long, teary glance at my watch. The date blurred by the specks of dust and salt floated across my face. For a moment, music floated in my mind reminding me of a desperate and sorrowful period of my country's history.

Lyrics shouted at me from the mouth of a young man named Edwin Starr. He vehemently opposed the war during this time. His words turned my attention to my friend, Ludvang.

I had not realized it before, but Edwin Starr's words of protest in the year 1970 against the then war raging in this country were familiar to those of my friend.

Edwin's version of the song WAR, was its second rendition. Although he did not write the lyrics, his voice shouted the words of protest that did not champion either side of the conflict.

My father introduced me to that bygone era of music my friends did not desire to understand. The era that spoke truth to one's beliefs via music.

His love of the twentieth century soul and rhythm and blues style intrigued me.

Where he obtained the rare collections, I did not inquire. I just enjoyed endless weekends of lyrics that felt as if they were speaking to me of this century and under these circumstances.

This day I was born eighteen years ago.

Hoovering in this position today in the bunker, I would not have dreamed or aspired. I did not understand what my father knew of the conflict. I just followed orders as a good son would.

The words of the song, WAR, I'd listened to numerous times. Only now did I feel the impact and possible outcome of the words Edwin spoke,

"War. What is it good for? ABSOLUTELY NOTHING.
It's nothing but a heartbreaker. Friend only to the undertaker."

Next month the school social was planned. Even amidst the conflict, some semblance of life rolled forward. I had labored at an odd job this past Spring so I could afford two entrances.

Amelia. Her golden hair flowing beyond her shoulders. Turning toward us as we walked to school, her blue eyes and fair skin grabbed my heart and squeezed it so tight that I forgot the question she'd asked.

Yes, Amelia was my first choice.

Although I had not spoken to her recently, I planned to ask her soon. In fact, I was certain she would accept, and that we would be together for the rest of our lives planning that huge family I never enjoyed.

Then I remembered again a part of the lyrics: "War can't give life. It can only take it away."

My heart stopped thinking our life together would never happen.

Immediately, an explosion nearby shattered my thoughts.

I froze. Then, my hands flew to my chest as a hurt I'd never experienced spread throughout. I could no longer see Amelia's face.

As I lay there, lyrics fell upon my lips as Edwin whispered them in my ear, "Who wants to die?".

Paralyzed with fear Edwin's words would come to pass, I stared mindlessly at my family's photo.

The images faded just as my hold weakened.

For this month's contest theme involving Inspired by Music, my theme reflects the horrors of war. From one of the popular stable diffusion and generative art programs, I utilized, Night Cafe and Wombo Art.

Below are my steps in the creation process:

I added another character to the scene. A warrior woman I created with the generative art program, WOMBO DREAM. For inspiration, I located a free-sourced image of a fierce fighter for the opposition.

With the images created, blending them required a design program. The one I use regularly is Canva. I uploaded them to take advantage of the pro features in my Annual Pro Membership Subscription, such as background removal, sizing, colorizing, and filtering.

First, I added the Night Cafe dystopian city at war.

Next, I duplicated the image to fill in the canvas. Not only that, I wanted to show the two sides in the war were the same people.

I then added the fighters on both sides of the conflict. I chose to depict a female to emphasize the opposition and presumed weaker side included all the people willing to fight.

Below is the completed project: