Hi there again. This is a story I wrote a couple of months ago as part of a short story contest at school.
I have written other stories for fun but this is my sincere attempt. Hope you like it.
(P.S. It seems that Medium does not have a great comment system, which sucks. Instead, you can email me at armaankhurana17@gmail.com to send me any writing-related messages.)
BOOM. The sound of an explosion rolled over the hills, followed by screams and then silence. As usual, the same morbid thoughts ran through his mind. He wondered, ‘Who was it this time,’? Was it Klein with his humor which never failed to elicit a smile? Or was it Douglas, with his stoic demeanour and broad shoulders? Will I be next? Will this ever end?
He wondered the same thing hundreds of times each day, as his comrades breathed their final breaths. He waited in dread as they came back in burial shrouds. Sometimes it was a stranger, sometimes a friend. But there was no time for guilt or grieving. In these few short moments of safety, where the sounds of suffering were muffled by the trench walls he felt calm. He got time to look at himself and see a changed man. Half in shock, and half in sorrow, he thought about his friends, who had set off to the next world, and wondered if he would join them soon. But these moments of solitude and bated breaths were short, few and precious. Soon, the sounds of gunfire and grenades, the horrifying melody of pain, began again.
Gathering courage and strength, he left the safety of his earthen hideaway, and charged on to what may be his final act of valour before the next world.