Joined: 19 Jul 2009
alright I've started writing this story this is only the begining of the prologue
its a story from world war 2 but the plot behind the rest of the story is still an ancient
I was woken by the roaring.
I stirred from a restless sleep from the flashes of cannons in the distance, the howling
of shells over head, and exploding among my friends, my brothers. I reached for my rifle
and dived down into the mud of the foxhole, it was red. The smell of blood was rich in the
In terror I checked myself for wounds, there were none? That’s when I saw my buddy,
Charlie, limp with his cranium sliced in two. One half still sat on top of his neck the
rest of it was scattered in pieces across the mud floor. I tried to look away from the
gruesome sight, but it was already buried in my mind forever to haunt me. A mental camera
flashed and printed out an image in my mind for archiving into my horrid past.
God save me please. God save me please. For terror gripped me I panicked, I cowered, I
hid myself from the horror. But there was no comfort in hiding here. I ran, I jumped out
of my foxhole and ran. I ran like a coward while brave men died in my place. But even if I
stayed wouldn’t they still die and I would go with them. I was not a coward my survival
instinct was better than there own. Yeah, yeah, that was it I was surviving.
Then it happened, pain shot through my chest. A loud bang that deafened my ears and
saddened my soul, I didn’t make it. Why? Why didn’t I a make it? Why me? O God please
forgive me. Forgive my brothers for I have abandoned you and for what. Death!
Then nothing, blackness gripped me and everything stopped. Nothing, How much time has
passed, has it been a minute, a second, a day, a week, a month, a year. Was this Hell,
nothingness? No, it couldn’t be. Why would I go to Hell? No, it wasn’t Hell; I was
still alive and breathing.
My eyes blinked. What was this I felt nothing but pain. My hands bound and my wound only
lightly patched to stop the major bleeding. In front of me stood a man crowned with a tall
peaked bearing an eagle. Scars marked his face. His eyes grey, soulless. A symbol of piece
used as an atrocity against mankind. The Swastika! The Nazis!
“Where am I?” The words gurgled from my mouth as if I was a stroke patient. I tried
to swallow the blood that filled my mouth, but instead spat it out all over myself. The
sight of this blood made me sick it brought back deaths. Deaths of good men whose it
wasn’t their time. Charlie, Buck, Willcox, and Sarge. Why them? Why not me, I’m the
“Where is the rest of your unit! Tell me!” Barked the man with the scars which pulsed
as he yelled.
“Private John Hendel, trooper number 0926752.” I gurgled. The man with the scars
struck me across the face drawing more blood from my mouth. He then hovered over me
glaring down at me examining me with his cold grey eyes and trying to catch a glimpse of
fear. His search was futile my life was already over.
“I’ll say this one more time. Where is the rest of your unit?” He barked again.
“My life is already over. Nothing you can do will make me talk just let me die in my
shame.” That’s when I saw it. A man? No, it was clothed in a dark robe of shadows,
with a hood covering his face with shadow. A scythe held in his hand, pulsing with evil.
The shear presence of this man, this monster nearly knocked me cold, but the scar faced
man did not seem to notice he continued asking his questions. His voice constantly
trailing farther and farther away. Then nothingness, I was truly dead.
hoped you liked it.
also if there were any grammer or spelling errors please tell me also if there is
something that doesn't soud right or can be approved just dont be a jerk about it
I like opinion its the only way i can improve