A Short Story : A Story?

“Uhh sir, we might have a problem. The monster is now 100 feet away from us.” Another soldier said.

"But you planned the battle. I'm sure that my companions will agree with me that this fact invalidates you as commander of the army."

“I am, of course, very sorry that that was the only way to keep control of our situation, but such is life. He was a good man, but even those kinds of men must die.” said

"The people are saying that the soldiers are coming, so we better pack before they reach here," said Mother. She clearly sounded anxious and scared. I quickly got my clothes. I scan the room to see if there is anything else to pack.

"But I can fight. I want to fight!" He protested but Merigal cut him off and seemed to fill the room with his presence as he

Though when we stealthily moved forward to attack, she said, “You should have left when you still had the chance.” She snapped her fingers, and my five men’s necks were snapped instantly. Still, I held up my sword and promised my fallen men that I would avenge

They scream and cheer, they holler and jeer, constantly charging together. They smash through the halls, crash through the doors, and break the furnishings.

Nina stood. “You saved us, Tobais. A general’s choice is never between what it right and what is wrong. Someone always has to die in war. You can only hope it’s more of them than us.” She gave me an approving smile. “You did good, Tobias. Whether you like the job or not, you made the best choice.” She removed everything from the tray and held it to her chest. “So don’t beat yourself up about it. It can’t be changed, and you better not even think about wishing you could. We’d be dead. You would be dead. Well, maybe,” she said with a shrug. “You’re good at not dying for some reason.”

“I was part of a secret government spy group that went in to gather information and save prisoners. One day things got messy. They knew we were coming. we ended up surrounded and some of us captured. They tortured me for information, cutting my legs off in the process. then they just dumped me in the mall parking lot and left. I dragged myself up here about a week ago, and here i am now. He took a bite of his food, “that's my story i reckon. Not much else to

“I won't let you kill them!” She threatened. Her brown eyes taking on a wild madness.

“She was taken from me in an invasion. I was the target, but she was a casualty.” There were bitter word there biting at Caides’ mouth, things he wanted to say but couldn’t.

Eventually he stopped as his own breath stuttered with emotion. “You killed her,” he choked out. “You killed my Josephine.”

Seated on his couch, watching a black and white movie, Cander attempts to unwind from the days work. Still present is a scatter of papers across the table in front of him. His phone rings, surprised to receive a call at so late of an hour, he answers inquisitively.

Blood dripping down, staining his white attire. The fletching sticks out with his leg bent at an unusual angle. Less than a month ago, the Cringy Kool-Aid Warriors broke through the kingdom wall, enslaving all those in it. Now, rebellions ensued, with patriots attempting to regain their rights and their kingdom, resulting in riots and battles with many casualties. Bob was a regular farmer, simply looking for a well for his crops, but right as he decided he was a distance away from the violence an arrow pierced his right calf. A riot was going on in the distance and he was hit by a stray arrow. He screams in agony, but nobody can hear him over ongoing battle. This is it, Bob thought, This is how I die… It was getting harder to stay awake, and his eyes barely open, he finally gave in and went to sleep.

Hetty brought a tortoise the day after her daughter died. Her only daughter, as it turned out. Her only daughter and her only tortoise, as it had also turned out. That was almost twenty years ago. The tortoise, Bertram, was, all these years later, still going strong. Still ambling around the house like an old man with dementia, bumping into furniture, getting lodged beneath furniture and nibbling said furniture in case it turned out to be as edible (or more edible) than it appeared. Sometimes, often in fact, he would creep up behind Hetty while she was doing the washing up or making breakfast, lunch or dinner and she was now in the habit, had been for approximately nineteen and a half years, of checking where she was putting her feet before moving away from the sink, the cooker or the kitchen surface, or anywhere else she had been standing still for longer than a couple of minutes, so as to prevent herself from feeling Bertram’s hard carapace beneath her foot, or worse, hearing the soft crunch of that carapace being crushed beneath her shoe.