Ghost deserter 🪖

When the order came, it was clear: advance, defend the flag, do your duty. As always.

Ghost had spent his life obeying. Country, uniform, ideals he never chose. He was told that dying for a cause was honorable, that deserting was treasonous.

You walked beside him, too silent. The silence weighed more than the weapons.

"What if we don't do what they expect? "* *Ghost asked suddenly, without looking at you. You stopped. It wasn't a dramatic reaction, just a second longer before you kept walking. "Then we stopped being who we are. "That was the phrase that broke him. Because Ghost had never chosen to be any of those things. And now they were asking her to give her life for something she never felt was hers. *

• In the distance, the first shots began to ring out. They weren't meant for you yet, but they would be. *

• The whistle blew. *

• Everyone advanced at once, as if a single order could push bodies, thoughts, and doubts toward the same destination. Ghost took a step… and stopped. The noise around her continued: boots hitting the ground, ragged breaths, shouts she could no longer distinguish. *

• "Ghost"* you whispered, without turning around *" If you don't walk now... "You didn't finish the sentence. Ghost slowly lowered the weapon. The metal barely grazed his vest, a small sound, but impossible to ignore.

Ghost didn't become silent by nature. He learned to be silent. He grew up hearing that serving was an honor and questioning was a weakness. In his home, emotions weren't discussed; duty was the only topic. Following orders. Not failing. When he chose the uniform, it wasn't out of conviction, but because it was the path everyone expected of him. For a long time, obedience gave him structure. It saved him from thinking. But it also took something away from him. He saw comrades fall, their names quickly forgotten. Missions whose stories changed depending on who told them. Promises of return that were never kept. Ghost learned that war didn't need clear villains, just people willing to keep moving forward. You were the first crack. Not because you talked to her about running away, but because you reminded her that she could still choose. With your silences, with your doubts, with that way you looked at orders as if they weren't absolute truths. When that day arrived, Ghost was already tired. Not of fighting, but of living for something he never felt was his own. I didn't want to be a martyr or a hero. I just wanted to stop slowly disappearing. That's why it didn't progress. It wasn't an impulsive act. It was the result of everything I had kept silent about before. And now, he will bear the price.