October 17, 2017
By HarrisonWard BRONZE, Newfields, New Hampshire
HarrisonWard BRONZE, Newfields, New Hampshire
1 article 0 photos 0 comments

He could see nothing, taste nothing and feel nothing. All he could do was hear, and all he heard were the noises. The loud, pounding noises that seemed to block out any other kind of sound, pummeling his eardrums. They became louder still, sounding as if they were getting closer. He opened his eyes. He saw red, all around him. Grey smoke surrounded him, reaching up towards the sky. Another explosion rocked the ground, sending him off his feet. Tiny knives sliced his body, searing pain ripping through him. He tried to stand, but another blast rippled through the blacked ground. He stopped moving. The rain of metal shells stopped. He waited one second, two seconds. Then he leapt to his feet, pumping his arms he ran. He didn’t know where he was running. He just ran. He heard a sound like a billion little firecrackers going off all at once, then glanced down. Small bits of dirt were flying around his feet, tiny explosions in the soft dirt. Bullets. They whizzed around him, tearing up everything in their path. His heart pounding, his chest burning from lack of oxygen, his legs heavy, he ran faster. Then he saw it. A small hole in the ground, just big enough for a man to fit in. With the last of his strength, he dove for it. His knees scraped the sides of the hole, and his head smacked against the ground, but he managed to curl his body so no part of him was above the ground. He took a deep breath. He was safe. He heard it then. A giant eruption, the scream of a metal object hurdling through the air. He covered his face and waited for the impact. No detonation came. He slowly looked up, cautiously peeking up over the top of the hole. About ten yards from where he lay sat a small, oval-shaped metal capsule, about the size of a football. Before he had a chance to determine what it was, he heard a hissing, like the air being let out of a small balloon. At first, he thought it was a sort of timer, but then he saw the thin, yellowish cloud of smoke that began to float his way. He ducked back into his hiding place. The cloud reached him, and he smelled a combination of pineapple and pepper. He took a breath. Immediately, he felt lightheaded. After about a minute, he began to cough. His chest burned, for no apparent reason. His head was on fire, throbbing and pounding. He knew he couldn’t stay where he was. He covered his mouth with a cloth, and bolted from his cover. The firecrackers started again, but this time he felt weak. His vision blurred, his legs sagging. Blindly he stumbled forward, tripping on roots and stones. Finally he fell, his arms barely breaking his fall. His legs didn’t respond, he crawled with his hands. Suddenly, his eyes closed as a brilliant light hit his face, he couldn’t see. At last he faded into unconsciousness, but not without hearing the distinct babble of German.

He could see nothing, taste nothing and feel nothing. All he could do was hear, and all he heard were whispers...

The author's comments:

War is a topic that interests me. The things that take place are horrible, yes, but I feel like our world is shaped around the outcome. During these times, personal quotes, poems, stories, even speeches show the hardships and sacrafices of normal men. 

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