War is my hell

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: War and Military  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: January 21, 2017

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Submitted: January 21, 2017

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The air is cold. The dawn is not as so calming as the sky's turn red like blood the drums in the distance that would make our walls crumble with only the slightest of sound. They get louder, pikes in the air that creep over the hill, stalking us knowing our heads will be on them soon. We used to ward off anyone else that would want to claim this castle keep, but I think the odds are not in our favour. we close the gates, line up arrows at standby for the mark only to have this shaded dawn above us I look up to instantly take cover as arrow after arrow took my squad. We weren't the first to fire. One by one we fall, like bloody dominos to the sick joke of a puppeteer, I screamed for our next orders but our captain...our captain of the keep flees like a yellow livered weasel that he is! we stand our ground as the enemy advances I stumbled up to regain my footing and see some archers weren’t smart enough to take cover like the rest did “are you all drunk!” I gained adrenaline to scream off the top of my lungs for the orders that I gave since I was in next to take lead in command "common you worthless maggots arms at ready!" The archers that are left pull out their arrows out of shock knowing that this wasn’t going to be a normal defence as they started to regain moral from me "aim men wait until you see the whites of thier eyes!" They take their aim all of them holding their breaths from the cold air that surrounded them not enough to see your own breath "fire first volley!" we fire out of my command as we hold our ground. But it was not enough as we fired our third volley the enemy had already reached our gate before it was to late we arm ourselves we opened the gates to make our last effort to put the foot in the door 

 

As they slowly open with the intensity and decreasing moral from my men  I swollow my own spit to then speak with the remainding courge I have left to shout inspiration  “We fight to our last breath and hence forth, we will go down with history and dine in the 9 pits of hell! Bring on the ruthless! The bezerkers! Let’s show them how we handle unwanted guests!" My men scream out more I’m glad to have them fight. As the gates open the enemy rushes without a second thought my speech was nothing compared to what happened after as their axes swoop down us like a knife through butter. All I see was body's flying of shields limbs torn straight off of our own men. pikes, coming in with hooked weapons and cleavers. this wasn't a castle anymore but a butchers shop and we were the first to the slaughter like pigs. the sky's told us that this day was not going to be our victory as crimson red poured down into the guttered sewers and streets that we came across through this keep that we guarded. I could only see our flag hanging down from us I can see with its pole that had impaled me and my men. They poured our oil from the storage house upon us and knowing that they’ll sat us ablaze before we bleed out set only us screaming for agony for this to be at an end, this was not a trail but an execution I’m only knowing our flag burns with our insignia slowly but surely till theres nothing left but ash. This war isn't a game to mess with, nor is it a happy ending for most of us the captain doesn't deserve to live after killing us all with his cowardice I sleep. I wait. For death and fire.


© Copyright 2018 Thomas Alexander Duncan. All rights reserved.

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