Wednesday, September 9, 2009

scraps.

this is something i wrote years ago.think i was in grade 7 or 8. probably due to a severe lack of a social life. and because i was such a bloody hippy. needs to be edited. badly. oh well:


The gun fired. The bullet shot through the air, glimpsing nothing but the blurred world around it. Nothing to see except for smears of brown and green across a destroyed canvas. Its journey seamed like a life time, and yet it was only a few short moments. It pierced the soldier’s heart and broke it in more ways than one. He closed his eyes and exhaled. His part was done. The world was no longer his home, his refuge. He was to be judged by god today, and a small smile crept across his face.
Holding his chest, he slowly lifted himself out of the trench. Blood trickled off his dirty fingers and hit the hardened earth. The ringing in his ears grew louder and more painful. And then he could hear nothing at all. He staggered across the dry soil, amongst scattered weapons and the corpses of soldiers. His or the enemies he was unsure, as they were so alike in death.
He could see men with sweat covering their brows, pulling triggers, and others running for cover as grenades were thrown. And yet he could hear nothing. Slowly his vision faded too, and like the bullet that had struck him, he could see only the faint blur of his troops.
He raised a weakened arm as he again collapsed. He could not feel, nor hear, nor see, but he was still relieved. Holding his hand pressed to his heart, he rested and waited. His angel would soon come.

and so the war raged on, and the soldiers fought. waiting in the darkness. for an anwser. for a signal. or perhaps just for an absolution that would never come.