The Soldier Who Can Never Die

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[INTRODUCTION]

(External perspective – neutral narrator)

On a warm summer afternoon, Andy’s home was filled with routine. The aroma of freshly baked cookies filled the air.
On the polished kitchen floor, dozens of little green soldiers stood frozen in rigid formations, pretending to be mere toys to the human eye.

His mother, in a hurry, hummed softly as she cleaned up the kitchen, moving with a firm, heavy step.
Her old blue shoes, weathered by years of use, dragged layers of dirt, dust, small crushed insects, and traces of dried mud deeply embedded in their thick rubber soles.

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[ACT 1 – THE BEGINNING]

(Perspective: Soldier – First Person)

I was just another one in the formation. An obedient soldier. Loyal. My duty was to protect Andy’s room.
I never thought my fate would be sealed in an instant.

I watched Andy’s mother emerge from the kitchen.
Her footsteps echoed like earthquakes in my tiny existence.
Each step brought her giant shoes closer…
My plastic body trembled, but I had to remain still.

A moment of carelessness.
An immense shadow.
And then I saw it: the monstrous, dirty sole descending toward me.
It looked like a living mountain, riddled with dust, black stains, dried hairs, shredded leaf fragments, and tiny insect corpses stuck in its deep grooves.

Time slowed down.

My heart, if I’d had one, would have pounded frantically.
I wanted to move. I couldn’t.
My feet, glued to the floor by fear, by the rules.

The shoe descended.

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(Perspective: Mother – Neutral Narrator)

The mother was simply walking toward the living room, distracted, thinking about her shopping list.
Her foot hit something tiny.
She didn’t even notice.
The little soldier was trapped under her sole, without her stopping her joyful walk.

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(Perspective: Soldier – First Person)

CRUNCH. A dry, horrendous sound ripped through me. My torso creaked under tons of pressure. The sole pushed me to the ground. An avalanche of dust and grime covered me. I couldn’t scream. I couldn’t move. I just felt. My body was absorbed into the dried dirt of the sole. The stench of stale sweat, old rubber, and trampled earth enveloped me. I felt tiny crystals of gravel and crushed insect remains mixing with my plastic. The mother didn’t stop. The next step lifted me off the ground… stuck to her.

(Perspective: Soldier – First Person)

Every step was hell.
A tremor shook me as I felt my body being mercilessly ground against the ground.
The pressure deformed my plastic limbs.
Small cracks opened in my torso.

The heat of the pavement rose through the sole, scorching me.
My mother’s sweat soaked the rubber, dragging me in a sticky mix of dirt and moisture.

I saw the world rush by:
Cracked floors, crushed chewing gum, dirty wrappers…

I was an invisible prisoner.
Trapped beneath the unconscious footstep of my own “giant.”

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(Perspective: Mother – Neutral Narrator)

On the way, my mother felt a slight lump under her left shoe.
She frowned.
“What a nuisance,” she thought.

Without stopping, he violently scraped his shoe against the sidewalk.

RASP
SCRACK
The shrill sound of scraping echoed briefly.

Then he continued walking as if nothing had happened.

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(Perspective: Soldier – First Person)

The friction was excruciating.
I felt my back being scraped, as if burning sand were devouring me.
My edges were slowly unraveling, fusing even more with the sole.

I could no longer move even my head.
Only my eyes, trapped in an eternal grimace of horror.

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(Perspective: Mother – Neutral Narrator)

She bought groceries.
She chatted with a friend on the street.
She walked to the park with Andy, laughing.

All while a tiny fragment of life remained crushed beneath her shoe, ignored, insignificant.

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(Perspective: Soldier – First Person)

Hours passed.
My senses were numbed.
But every footstep reminded me of my doom.

The squeak of wet rubber in the supermarket.
The brutal crushing on the park tiles.

The sole was my world now.
The sun, the dust, the sweat…
All seeping through the rubber, marking my new eternity.

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(Intense Intermediate Scene)

The mother decided to clean the house.

She briefly took off her shoes in the entryway, leaving them on the floor.
My world remained static for a moment.

Then, suddenly, a new horror:
The mother carelessly stepped on her own barefoot shoes, crushing me between her bare foot and the sole.

CRACK… CRUNCH…

I felt the warm, sweaty skin of her heel rub against me, crushing me even deeper into the shoe.

A crushing, brutal pressure, almost affectionate in its unconsciousness.

Then she put her shoes back on.
And we continued our endless journey.

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[ACT 3 – FINAL]

(Perspective: Soldier – First Person)

Almost nothing remained of my former self.
I was a fragment of plastic, dust, and resignation.
But I still felt.
I still thought.

The mother jumped to reach something on a shelf.

BOOM.
CRASH.

Each landing was like being crushed by mountains.
Every flex of her foot was a painful scrape against the mud, the dry hairs, the grimy particles trapped between the grooves.

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(Perspective: Mother – Neutral Narrator)

She laughed.
She shook her head.
She enjoyed her day.
Not for a moment did she suspect the tiny tragedy she dragged in her sole.

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(Perspective: Soldier – First Person)

I am part of her now.
An invisible fragment in the world of giants.

My eternal mission: to endure, to observe, to resist.
No end. No hope. No liberation.

Darkness.

The sound of worn soles.
The squeaking of rubber against the floor.
The eternal echo of being trampled forever.

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THE END

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