I attempt to write fiction prose, sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t. This post may be the last post for a brief while simply because I have been swamped the past few days and I have been unable to write and the next few days will be incredibly hectic. Hope you enjoy!
I know I cannot accurately write about this topic because I have not experienced war. However, I would like to broaden my ability of writing and use what I have seen and heard to try to portray this everyday fact of life.
The rifle pushes against my shoulder as it fires. Round after round leaves the barrel, shrieking, looking for its target. Screams ring out, blood flies. Bombs create chaotic explosions, limbs flying along with those explosions.
Everywhere I look, I see the living, the dead and the wounded. I’m walking past everyone and everything; I no longer care for my life.
My screams are the screams of my comrades, the screams of the dead, the screams of my enemies. My soul screams along with the screams of the things around me, the screams of humanity and nature. It screams at the sight of dead, mutilated children, women bullet-ridden, men with destroyed beyond repair. It is too much to bear.
As I cross another dead body, I feel something press to the side of my skull before it enters, the flash of pain warns me of what is to come. I know now, at this moment before I die, I can finally find peace by escaping this horror.