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Creative Writing: A Narrative Fiction

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“Are you kidding me!?” yells my friend Nate. “Thrown out like you’re nothing?” “I’m fine, it’s okay.” I answer. It’s not. I’m not okay. I’ve been “released”, as General Tre would call it, on medical terms. No more army, no more fighting, no more justice. Normally I’d be happy, but under the circumstances given, it’s completely different. “Well?” Nate yells. “What? I wasn’t listening.” I say. “What are you going to do about it?” He asks. “About what?” I ask, as Nate sighs. “About getting kicked out the army!” He exclaims. “Oh, Right. I don’t know, what should I do?” “I’ll tell ya.” He laughs. “All you need to do is-“ “ALL SOLDIERS TO THE TRAINING GROUND!” Booms a voice from behind us, me almost using my crutches as weapons. Nate follows the voice as quickly as possible, leaving the conversation immediately. …show more content…

“I’ll talk to you later!” He answers. “The imperial’s are on their way!” I never saw him again. Dead. Killed in battle at the footsteps of the Confederate Outpost. Supervised by mister helmet hair himself. Tre did nothing to stop it. He could have, but didn’t. And now, I’m here with him, at his burial a month later. I had just gotten of my crutches when I found out. Tre loomed over the grave stone like he was trying to intimidate it, acting like it was worth it. I was about to leave when he said something to me. “Pity, he just didn’t know how to save himself” he spat. I couldn’t control myself. “What!?” I shouted. “How on earth can you say that? You could have easily helped him, but you just stood and watched as he was ripped

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