THE END
by K. Jeffery Petersen


	Heroes never ask for glory. It happens upon them, when they 
least expect it. Some are lucky, but not me. Decades of fighting in 
my little war, Armageddon, but not everyone considers me a hero.

	Looking now across the landscape of Europe, I find little 
reason to disagree with them. Largely because of me, of my failures, 
their world is destroyed. Oh, only the oldest among them can 
remember, as I do, what life was like before the demons came. More of 
them, but still old, remember life when the war was just the Middle 
East.

	The tragedy, then is in what was lost by humanity. God 
shrugged. He said such was the price that had to be paid. I don't 
know if its my right to question Him.

	Once I wondered if it would have been better if I had stayed 
home, played with my friends, and never bothered with the whole 
ordeal. Then I think of the ravages brought on by the forces of hell. 
The dead, the raped, the destitute. I think of my dead comrades, 
smiles of victory frozen on their faces. They knew something I 
didn't.

	I can't go back, I probably never could have chosen 
otherwise. I have, I hope, fulfilled my destiny. Satan has been 
beaten, for now. It's time for Heaven to leave this place. Time to 
let the world grow anew.