The Chosen

The Chosen
by Bikerider

What was I to do?  It is not every day you have the opportunity to be the one person that will implement the will of God.
 
“You have been chosen,” the Holy Man said.  “The day has come for you to do your part; to show the infidel he cannot win.  The day is upon you to enter martyrdom.”  I stood before him, humbled by the call to do what I was meant to do.  But still, fear washed over me.  I was shown how to build the pack, how to wear it—and how to pull the cord. There were two results of what I was to do, both had consequences I dared not dwell on.  If pulling the cord did its intended work, there would be no reason to consider anything except my rise to a place better than the one where I stood.  If the cord failed to keep its promise, I would be captured, jailed, interrogated and tortured.  I would be hated.

My mind went to the death of those who would surrounded me, but I was told their presence was not arbitrary.  They would be chosen by God to be there.  Fate would choose, not me, and that gave me much comfort.  As I strapped on the heavy canvas rack filled with explosives I became the weapon of our struggle.  I became the guided bomb, the missile of my people, the statement that as long as there was someone like me, we could not be defeated.  As I stood in the crowded market and looked into the eyes of those who would die, I felt for the thin nylon cord.  Looking around one last time, I pulled the…

WC:283
Written as a Flash Fiction entry, 300 word limit. Prompt, "You Have Been Chosen." Revised 1/28/11.
Thank you, happyfingers, for the suggestions that made this better.