• His eyes opened and staring back into his soul, were the decaying eyes of a lifeless body. He sprung to his feet at the horrible sight. The shade of night made it difficult to see where he was, but he could see the bodies lying all around him in the tall, yellow grass wearing tan uniforms and they looked like they've been there for quite a while. There were no trees around, just a plain.
    “How did this happen?” he thought to himself, “Where am I and how did I get here?”
    His memory had lost him. Everything that had happened prior to then, gone! Even his childhood had escaped him. Suddenly, a flashing bright light shot up from the distance, illuminating his surroundings and he could get a full view of the damage. There were many more bodies spread across the field and they too have been decayed to almost nothing. He looked around at his surroundings and could finally make out buildings and trees. As he looked around he saw a big, crimson barn and an even bigger white Victorian house like the ones you see in old family movies with a big porch circling the house and the smell of fresh pies baking in the oven coming from it. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but the place was extremely familiar to him.
    His eyes looked towards the light coming from what looked like a city skyline silhouetted in front of the light. He decided to check out the house first. As he walked up the creaky wooden steps to the giant porch, he tripped over something small and made of wood. He picked it up and held it in his hands a while, staring, wondering what happened to the little boy who owned this small wooden duck on wheels attached to a string. He didn't really want to know. An immense sadness took over him and he couldn't let they toy go, so he stuffed it into his coat pocket, and proceeded to the front door.
    The door, to his surprise, was unlocked and he walked through the threshold. He walked down the small foyer and walked through the first door on his left. His heart stopped, he dropped to his knees, and stared at the old rocking chair sitting in the middle of the room, and in the middle of the room, was a young, beautiful women still well preserved but certainly dead. The man cried out in pain and clutched his head as a flashback was being driven into his brain.
    The flashback was of a little boy at about 5, with brown hair and blue eyes, running through the very house the man was in now, running in and out of the doorways dragging a small wooden duck by the string. He finally stopped when he reached the room he was in now. The boy looked up to find his mother in the chair, lifeless. His father told him she had a heart attack, but he knew there was something fishy about that. She seemed fine the last few days of her life, except for the occasional black eye which she had always told him was an accident. A few years later, his father was sentenced to a lifetime in jail for murder.
    Then, just as fast as it came, the pain in his head was gone. He looked up slowly at his deceased mother, sitting in the chair and got up. He walked to the lifeless body, held its hand and tried to speak to her, but nothing came out. He dropped the hand and ran back into the hall towards the foyer and bolted out the door, not even looking back, fearing he'll see her looking out the window waving like she used to everyday when he left for school saying “Bye my son. Bye...”
    Bye what? He remembers her saying bye but then there was a name after. Who's name? His name? Has to be, but what is it? He couldn't remember his name! He thought as hard as he could, but he couldn't remember a thing.
    When he couldn't see his house anymore, he looked up towards the bright which seemed to have gotten brighter. After the visit to his old farm and childhood home he was afraid to go on, but he decided it was the only way out of... wherever he was.
    So, he continued on to the city, passing even more bodies on his way there, all in the same tan uniforms. After a few hours of walking he saw what seemed to be like a tree in the distance and decided to take a quick nap under it, but as he got closer he realized that it was smaller then it seemed. It wasn't actually a tree at all! It was an M1 Garand rifle, standing on its butt. He picked it up and weighed it in his hands. Then he noticed something written on the side, but it was blurry. He touched the word and immediately drop to his knees in pain, still clutching the rifle.
    All of a sudden there was an explosion next to him and the guts of what used to be a U.S. Marine all over. A whistle blew and the soldier next to him jumped to his feet, fixing a bayonet to his rifle, and charged the enemy.
    The environment seemed to be tropical and it was night. Gun shots could be heard all over the place and everyone around were dropping like flies. The soldier jumped over a trench wall and shot the first few men he saw. Then, he jolted upright and fell over in pain. He turned around to see the barrel of a rifle pointed at his head to finish him off until the enemy dropped to the ground. He looked up to see who his rescuer was.
    “Captain!” the soldier yelled, “I've been shot. Get a medic!”
    The captain yelled for a medic but no one came.
    “Let me go look for one. I'll be right back.” he yelled over the sound of bullets whipping past us and explosions. He jumped up from his crouched position and started to climb over the wall. The soldier noticed something move out of the corner of his eye. Right before he could warn the Captain about the enemy, a bullet was placed in the back of the Captain's head.
    Right before the flashback was over, the man watching all of this happen got a good glimpse of the enemy. They were Japanese soldiers with tan uniforms.
    The flashback was over. The man was on his knees still holding the rifle, speechless. He remembered that. That night on Okinawa during World War II when his Captain was shot down by the enemy. Then something hit him like a train. The bodies around him, in those tan uniforms. They were the Japanese soldiers who fought. “What are they doing here?” he asked himself. Where they all the people who died? Or where they people he killed? He was hoping on the first one, hoping he wasn't the one who caused the death of all those men.
    He dropped the gun in shock, but it sounded like it hit something. He looked under the gun and was shocked to find dog tags under it. He picked them up and read the name. “John Philips” it said. Was that his name? Probably not. He noticed one of the tags was missing. This must mean the soldier died, so it couldn't be him. It was his captain's name. Captain John Philips. He remembered the day he was drafted into the army. The captain calling out his name, which still escapes him. He also remembers something else. A woman. A beautiful woman, waving to him as he got on the train. Who was she? He figured it didn't matter at this point, shoved the dog tags in his pocket with the wooden duck, and trudged on towards the city.
    He finally made it to the city limits and stopped. There was something odd about it, but he figured that the whole day had been odd so what's the worst that could happen. The first thing he noticed a few blocks in was there was no sound. Next thing he noticed was that every building was exactly the same in every way. The same shape, the same door, the same window shades, even the same small tree on the side walk. He didn't want to question it so he kept on going. He didn't know where he was going, so he decided to go to the light. So, on he went through what seemed like the never ending city, getting closer to the bright beacon shooting up. It has almost become blinding now, but he figured it was the only way out of this hell.
    He finally got to the base of the light, and there was a man starring up at it.
    “life” he began, “is unique. Humans are born to love, to hate, and to feel. They are born with some knowledge and some is taught. But the only knowledge that can't be taught, is our future.”
    He turned to me and I got a good look at his face. He was an old man with gray hair and a long, grey beard. He wore robes and carried a walking stick in his right hand. “Did you bring your tokens?” he asked the man.
    “Tokens?” he asked, “What tokens?”
    “At the two places you visited, you gathered tokens, am I correct?”
    “Oh, you mean these. What are they anyway?” the man asked taking the wooden duck and dog tags out of my pocket.
    “They are your memories. Those flashbacks you had were only a small bit of memory it had. Throw them in light” the old mad told him. He did as he was told. The light started flashing different colors until all of the colors blended together and a picture started to form.
    “Watch” said the old man.
    He looked into the light and watched the scene unfold in the matter of seconds. Every memory that he had returned was there and some new ones. He watched the day he was born, the day his mother was killed, the day he was drafted into the army, and the day his captain died. But then it slowed down and he could see to figures dancing. It was him, he knew it was him, but who was he dancing with? He was wearing a suit and the woman he was dancing with was wearing an all white dress. A bridal dress. They were the only two people dancing on the stage to that slow song, everyone watching their every move. It was his wedding! But who was he dancing with? he recognized her as the woman waving goodbye when he was getting on the train, going off to war. He turned towards the old man.
    “What's her name?”
    “Her name is Elisabeth. You met her in high school and you've known each other ever since.” He answered.
    “Oh yeah, I remember now! Our first date, are first kiss, and our marriage. But what's my name?”
    “You'll find the answer to your question eventually. Keep watching.”
    The man continued to watch the rest of his life flash by. He saw him and his wife, him having children, him getting old, and finally, his funeral.
    “Wait, am I dead?” he asked.
    “Not yet. If you want to learn more, step into the light.” he answered.
    The man was reluctant at first but the reassuring look from the old man gave him the courage. He closed his eyes and started to walk forward. He stepped into the light and a great pain took over him, burning his very soul. His scream of pain started to turn into crying. Someone was holding the man in his arms. He couldn't really hear what was going on, and his eyesight was blurred. As his eyesight slowly returned he could see the man was wearing a white coat and a mask. As his hearing came back he could hear the man speaking.
    “... It's a boy!”