The War Zone

 

 

THE WAR ZONE

 

There is a stretch of land. You know this stretch of land. You have seen this stretch of land many times. You are looking at it now. It is on the side of a hill; the angle is steep meaning that each step you take as you push forward requires considerable effort as the unceasing force of gravity tries to pull you back down the hill. This stretch of land is territory which is churned up mud, thick and cloying mud which sucks at you, intent on grinding your advance to a halt. You know you need to get across this stretch of land however and you summon up your strength, gird your loins and set off.

The wire set across this stretch of land snags at your clothing, the barbed comments set along this coiled and bundled piece of wire rip into your clothing and you wince as one pierces your skin. You try to lift your leg over this wire as you feel your standing foot sinking into the mud. You hear the rat-a-tat-tat of the vicious volley of bilious bullets which are being shot in your direction. The malice machine gun spewing forth lies and insults which pepper the ground around you, whistling past your head and spraying all around in a scattergun approach. You are used to this but it does not make it any easier because you know this machine gun seems to have a limitless supply of those bullets. In order to avoid being hit you hurl yourself forward, feeling another barb from the wire scratch you through your clothing as you hit the ground with a hard slap. The wind is knocked from your lungs as you are sprawled in the mud, the machine gun still spewing forth its angry accusations. You hear the whistle of some incoming ordnance, perhaps one of those conversational hand-grenades that we love to lob at you from different angles. You cannot see it but you know that it is coming and you clamp your tin hat down on your head, hoping it misses as you try to sink into the mud to evade injury. There is a boom to your right and you brace yourself but the savage shrapnel of untruths misses you this time. You scramble up, cold and damp from the mud that now clings to you, eyes darting left and right in the fashion to which you have become accustomed. Your senses are in overdrive as your hypervigilance increases. You don’t know how long you can keep this up as you look out for a sniper on the ridge who might pick you off with a well-placed shot from his rifle of random repercussions. Your ears strain listening for the sound of another hateful hand-grenade or the caustic chatter of the malevolent machine gun. There is a roaring in your ears. Is it the sound of the blood racing around your body, driven by your thundering heart or is it the bellow of your aggressor? It has become so difficult to discern these days.

You race forward adopting your customary zig zag in order to avoid the attempts to cut you down. You charge, head down, legs pounding the mud, each step seeming to take longer and longer as you feel you are moving in slow motion. The air is alive with the smell of cordite, venom and vitriol. There is a billowing sound off to your right and instinctively you hurl yourself to the ground again, smashing into the mud as you feel the heat overhead as a flaming cloud of fury burns, churning and billowing from the flamethrower wielded by your aggressor. The air is super-heated and you can feel the heat across your neck and back as stay down. You cannot remain here for long though as you know you will be a sitting target for the mortar which will rain down its brutal bombs upon you. You start to crawl, the heat still gripping the air, the bullets pinging and whizzing past you, plopping into the mud as you crawl, breath ragged, lungs burning. You haven’t noticed how much you are shaking since you are too engaged seeking to avoid the volleys being hurled towards you.

The heat has gone and you scramble to your feet as you hear the ack-ack-ack of a larger weapon discharging its abusive ammunition towards you. You realise that there are three of these pieces of onerous ordnance as the enemy is triangulating you in an attempt to bring you down. You head to the left and back to the right as you wonder where your allies are, where have they gone? You can dimly remember that there were others once upon a time who supported you and helped you up this slope, encouraging you and urging you on but their voices have gone. One by one the enemy has picked them off leaving you isolated and alone.

This slope that now threatens to halt you advance was once a beautiful hillside adorned with verdant grass which swayed in the warm, gentle breeze. Flowers festooned it beneath a blazing golden sun as you ran down the slope each day with ease and in such a care-free manner. Your recollection of that time vanishes when you hear the rumbling noise and see the barrel of a tank coming into view. You know what is coming from this terror tank, a salvo of scathing shells, designed to send you flying through the air, dizzy and disorientated. The barrel is swinging around as your tormentor takes aim and with considerable effort you continue your advance. It feels like you are running through hell. The noise, the sudden explosions of furious fire and blinding light against the grim grey sky, the booms, the thuds, the sharp ping of bullets, the whump of the negative energy from bombs, shells and grenades being absorbed by the mud. You are under attack from all sides as you pelt forward and hurdle another set of barbed comments, avoiding being caught on them. You land and see ahead the ridge which signifies the end of this stretch of land. The end of the slope. You just need to reach there and you will be shielded from this assault, out of range and able surely then to rest and muster your strength. You notice for the first time that your teeth are chattering through fear, almost mimicking the chatter of the machine gun nests which are blazing their poison-tipped bullets towards you. The earth groans in protest as a line of bullets slaps into the earth and you take this as your cue to go forward again. You hear the throb of aircraft engine as a pain plane draws near ready to drop some incendiary device on you to have you burn or a fearsome bomb to blast you into smithereens with the force of its vitriol. Your breath is ragged and you can feel your legs shaking, the toll of this advance now exacting itself on your body which has endured so much. Five more steps and then surely you will have reached safety. The roar of battle reaches a crescendo, malicious metal rending the air apart as the aircraft draws closer, the tank twists, the barrel trying to keep pace with you. Four steps. The bullets whizz and another hand grenade explodes behind you. Three steps. There is the whine of a falling bomb which supersedes all the other clamour of battle. Two steps. Your heart is going to explode. One step. Everything is now being launched against you to stop you getting to the ridge. A massive explosion erupts behind you, furious and fearsome as you are hurled through the air, over the ridge and mud-smeared, ragged, bleeding and battered you crash to the ground and roll over, once, twice and a third time.

The world eventually stops wheeling about you. The spinning recedes and the frenzied sounds of battle have become muffled and distant. You hear your own heart still pounding, the sound of your heavy breathing as you mentally check yourself and realise you are intact. Just.

You open your eyes and turn to see where it is you have arrived and that is providing you with some kind of respite. You are in a ditch or perhaps a trench and you can see nothing but two earthen walls either side of you providing you with protection. You have made it. You got through the war zone. You crossed that stretch of land and succeeded. Elation soars through you as you tentatively sit up. Over the ridge to your right is where you have just come from, but what lies to the left. Carefully you peek over the edge of the trench.

There is a slope ahead of you. A stretch of land. You know this stretch of land. You know it well. It is churned mud with machine gun nests lining the sides of the slope as this steep section of land leads up to a ridge.

Yes, you know this stretch of land.

21 thoughts on “The War Zone

  1. J.G THE ONE says:

    Hello, H.G.Tudor.
    It’s better after battle and not conquer. Abandon this no man’s land, for no one will ever conquer it. What happens is that the empathics are too persevering and stubborn to understand this in a rational and logical way. Emotional thought loses us.

  2. foolme1time says:

    “Semper Fi”. Oh Bubbles I love you more and more each day!! 😘

    1. Bubbles 🍾 says:

      Dearest foolme1time,
      Awe, thank you beautiful, but I’m not sure what I’ve done to deserve that
      Luv Bubbles xx 😘

  3. Bubbles 🍾 says:

    Dear Mr Tudor,
    Sadly, I feel like I’ve climbed so many “hills”, I now have the embedded shrapnel to prove it
    I have gladly and willingly retreated, from sheer battle fatigue
    Your descriptive writing is utterly commendable
    Thank you and ” Semper Fi ”
    Luv Bubbles 😘

    1. wounded says:

      Bubbles you have the best comments. Getting ready to cross this war zone so Semper Fi indeed.

      1. Bubbles 🍾 says:

        Dear wounded,
        You are so very kind
        My heartfelt thank you
        Luv Bubbles 😘

  4. Narc noob says:

    Besides the many excuses the Empath or Co-dependent has, what else sets them apart from the “normal”? Wouldn’t the normal also be honest, decent, moral and exhibit empathetic traits?

    Perhaps their truth seeker endeavours and need for justice is lowered. Perhaps they wipe their hands faster/not as curious, and they would leave at the first or second mistreatment. ……

    1. Mercy says:

      Narc noob, maybe their fuel is not as strong so they are not targeted as often. Or maybe they are not targeted as long term fuel. Its a good question, I’d like to know more too.

  5. princesssuperempath says:

    Dearest HG: It is a War. But, I am still not sure what type of War it is. I can easily say it is a War between emotional thinking and logic, but there is still something more hidden and insidious and deeply complex about this War, as well as the subtle rules of engagement of this War. HG, you said on one of your recent videos that you have not told us all that you know about narcissism yet. That is good. I am staying tuned as much as I can. It is a dishonorable War. There was no ambassador, no emissary, no herald that arrived and explained to me that a War would commence if this and that were not negotiated. I was just in it. Ambushed. Unprepared. I remember for the first time in my life, twice my teeth chattered during the night as I disengaged from the mid ranger. I remember discussing the teeth chattering on one of your posts. Like you wrote here: “ You notice for the first time that your teeth are chattering through fear, almost mimicking the chatter of the machine gun nests which are blazing their poison-tipped bullets towards you.“~~ HG Tudor. I thought that I was having a heart attack, I posted. I looked it up on google and it said that the teeth chattering was from extreme stress. I am feeling so much better lately, almost ready to take up the battle again, but I think I will never forget this strange War, nor the strange weapons, nor the strange scrimmages, nor the strange strategies, nor the strange battle plans, nor the strange enemies. And, I doubt I will ever forget all those that participated in this War, whether ally or foe.

  6. Veronique Jones says:

    HG do narcissists feel more powerful if they create fear , grief or anger??

    1. HG Tudor says:

      Yes. See the book Fuel as to why.

  7. Giana says:

    Hg- This is a little off topic but do you think JK Rowling is a narc? She comes off as an empath but then again coming off as an empath can actually be a sign of a MR narc.

    1. HG Tudor says:

      I have not analysed her.

    2. lisk says:

      Good call, Giana. JKR strikes me as Narc-y.

  8. madamexdomina says:

    My narcissist in these days wants to take negative fuel, I understood it, he did everything he could to provoke me but I remained adamant for weeks. And today, just to have some fun, I accepted the war with him after so much cold indifference from my part. I said him of all the colors but always with an ironic and pungent tone. He wrote me private messages that were attempts to hang up, and to which I did not reply. I think he will now be meditating revenge because I have been really poisonous.

  9. kel says:

    If there were no narcissist’s in the world, how much less murder and crime would there be?

    1. HG Tudor says:

      83.2%

      1. kel says:

        🤣 I believe you.

    2. lisk says:

      Add to that suicide and autoimmune diseases.

      1. WhoCares says:

        lisk,

        “autoimmune diseases.”

        I see truth in that.

    3. Angie says:

      Having Narcissistic Tendencies, behaviors, and characteristics doesn’t equate to a full blown Narcissist. Clearly, there is enough bad in the world without adding Narcissists to the picture,,,peoples wrong doings is not the direct result of them being just “bad” they choose to be as well as Narcissists. But Narcissists are plotting, planning , and scheming…always and perhaps the other reprobates in the world as well….so question is, whom is the greater evil? both are deliberately bad? and one is just “fucking up and doing bad, evil things”? many have a healthy level of “narcissism” in other words, our ego, perhaps our vanity, our use of “manipulation” to get what we want and desire to have, our sense of entitlement? many non-narcissists have that as well…and so many other things that is applicable to this train of thought…question is who goes well above and beyond all the rest? so Murder is the direct result of evil people be it a narcissist or not a narcissist…Ted Bundy? did he Idealize, Devalue, Discard? did he Seduce, Devalue, and Disengage from? NO. but he knew the concept of Power and Control…and that’s what lies behind every single human being on earth’s ill actions and behaviors , their travesties, their deep seated hatred and frustration and rage,,,their anguish their anxiety , their this their that,,,all of it comes down to one thing. Who has self control and who does not.? who has power from within and who derives power from others? that shows you precisely who is beneath whom.

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