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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Flash Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
Friends is a story I wrote in the past week I spent in the hospital. It details two friends in war on differing sides and includes many of my own philosophical ideologies and personal feelings at the time. I hope it makes you think!

Submitted: July 18, 2017

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Submitted: July 18, 2017



He fell to the ground, skinning his hands against the hard terrain. A cloud of dust plumed around him, clouding his vision. Through the haze the man walked through, uniform stained with blood, the scarlet fluid of his enemies dripping from his bayonet.

Pure shock flew through his veins, numbing every emotion but fear from his system. His jaw hung open, eyes wide. He’d never felt so horrified in his life. He swung his arm up, covering his face, ready for whatever was to come. His ears rung as the deafening boom of shells and ratta-tats of machine guns echoed throughout the valley. A mind-rattling pain wrestled around in his brain, breaking his focus from his impending doom.

He remembered a time when this mans rifle wouldn't be at his throat; when they were friends, allies. Now he was labeled a traitor and that unbreakable bond between them had been shattered, shredding his hands in the vain of broken friendship.

War is a masterful beast of destruction, tearing apart everything, from families to nations; even lifelong friendships eventually fall to this heinous beast of malice. Hatred dwells within us all and through differing beliefs all manner of conflict can arise, drilling down deep and unearthing that deep roaring bloodlust; and now this bloodlust had been unearthed in his friend, leading to their friendship’s, and his own, demise.

Unintelligible speech flowed from his enemies mouth, losing its voice to the wave of deafening noises surrounding them. Sweat leaked from every pore in his body, clothes matting to his damp skin. A shiver ran down his spine.

His enemy’s hands tensed, gripping harder around the chamber of his rifle, lifting it to his ear.

What was going through his foes head? The memories of their friendship? A pure lustful hatred? What whither of them thought his fate wouldn't change, the sharp claws of war soon ending him, and soon after, his friend.

His enemy pulled the trigger, an ear splitting pop shooting through the valley, a bullet shooting through his neck. Blood gushed out, splattering onto the battlefield. A sharp unbearable pain tore through him. His vision blurred, mind fading into a hazy abyss. He blinked, slower and slower each time, his breathing becoming more and more ragged until each breath was just barely a wheeze. He coughed, blood splashing out of his mouth.

He watched his enemy walk away, a slight hint of remorse in his gait. His life flashed before his eyes, images of their friendship and his family’s faces passing through his thoughts, one by one dissolving into the abyss. He felt himself slip away, accepting the embrace of death. In the moment all he could think was why?

Why me?


© Copyright 2018 Althera. All rights reserved.

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