War writing - Wilfred Owen

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: War and Military  |  House: Booksie Classic
Basically a bit of writing we was made to do for English - I really got into it though!

Submitted: November 05, 2011

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Submitted: November 05, 2011

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The field seemed bare, yet calm, almost oblivious to the horrific events that layed ahead. Tensions were high as soldiers clambered together, all aware that their chance for survival was none existent. The agonizing wait clawed at my insides, wrenching my heart from my chest and spitting the remains onto what was left of the infested land. There was numbness to the pain that crawled from my chest and seeped into my gut; death already consuming me. As we marched into position, all soldiers glanced around, saying goodbye with only the darkened glimmer left in their eyes.  I crouched in the wasting soil, my fingers sinking into the swamps of sickening water, when the whistle was sounded. I instinctively jumped from my position, and sprinted towards the river. Bullets down poured from the sky, shattering the field and stopping me in my tracks for just a brief second. Death surrounded me; men slumped on the floor in their puddles of deep scarlet delicately swirled with a grimy brown liquid. At that moment, I no longer had control over my body. My mind went blank, and I scrambled across the field as fast as my feet would allow me too. In that short second that I allowed myself to look up, my body was slammed back and my stomach exploded in pain. I lay in the repulsive mud alongside the men I had just witnessed die, and yet I felt no hint of guilt, just sadness at the thought of never being able to admire the beauty of the world again. My mind wavered from one thing to another, and it was impossible to collect together my scattered thoughts. The sting in my stomach slowly began to fade as my body became numb, and I became more distant. I felt like a burning match, slowly nearing the end of the stick as my flesh blazed from the bullet wound. I gave up fighting death, and twisted my head to the side. At only arms length from me, Owen clutched his chest, squirming on the floor from the excruciating pain. The sight made me twinge, Owen was a close friend of mine, and we’d been through a lot together. Although it was unbearable to believe that such a great man like Owen lost his life, it was comforting to know that I’d have a friend when I reached the other side. I let my eyelids close and all too soon, the noise around me settled and the aching faded. But I was fully aware that in fact the noise continued, it was I who had escaped the treacherous scene.


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