Friday, December 4, 2009

Do Souls Survive? -Never forget

I'm running, at least, I think I am running. I run towards the Germans, blindly it seems, in the freezing rain that tastes so warm and refreshing. Why am I doing this? I have no reason to hate these men, these men whose cries seem like faint whispers to my ears. The sky is dark now; it seems no light shines on this horrifying act. High above the thunder roars like a hungry lion. The gods are laughing at our pathetic excuses for this maddness. The ground is wet and soft under my feet. I can smell the mud as we roll in it. I am a young animal in its first hunt, not sure what or why its doing it, but seems perfectly made for the kill. I look around me; all I can see are blurs. It feels like I'm running in slow motion, like time is holding its breath, just waiting for the end. I feel the thumping of my heart. Then I feel another type of thumping, a throbbing pain on my right arm. I look. I am cut. As I realize this in shock, I see my now watery blood flowing down my arm. I run wildly, wildly, stumbling on dead bodies, even sometimes crawling on all fours like a madman. I come to my senses. I discouver that I'm sitting on the ground, staring at the wall in our trench. I have come back. I have survived. Have I?

1 comment:

  1. nice narrative here... kind of like that thin space between life and death... a shade walking the trenches...

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