Creative Writing: All Quiet On The Western Front

Right now I’m in these trenches writing a heart-filled letter for y’all. But these unbearable conditions have been unsettling to me. Everytime I want to get away from the gruesome war, I think about you. The shots of the machine guns, getting exposed to mustard gas, and having to see my fellow soldiers having to deal with trench foot, all makes me feel hopeless of me staying alive. All day and night, we had to be on the lookout. Planes from the sky makes us vulnerable for air attacks. All aside from all of those problems, the one main goal is to one day find my horse Joey. Maybe both of us will somehow meet me once again during or after the war. I’m very sorry to you guys if I don’t make it home alive, but I’m going to make a big promise, never in a day or night, will I forget about you guys.

You have successfully entered enemy territory. You and the other recon soldiers have crossed the distance of open plain, skirted the barbed wire, and are close to the enemy trenches. You all lie on your stomachs in the mud, rifles in hand. So far, the going is good. You don’t seem to have been spotted, and no shouts of alarm split the air.

Bullets whizzed over their heads, spat out from the german machine gun.James sat crouched with his back pressed against the sludgy wall of the trench.The clouds covered the sky like a dark blanket, not a single sunray to be seen.James forcefully ripped a grenade off the coughing corpse next to him, he pitied the poor soul choking on gas, noticing the crimson puddle his head was surrounded by. He cocked the hammer of his revolver, took aim and abolished his misery He threw explosive holding on to the ring. A few moments passed and silence filled the air.

“Sure they do. But with this war, and the introduction of the bomb, the stakes were fought on an even grander scale. The Germans could have annihilated the English at Dunkirk if the skies were clear for the Luftwaffe. Think of how much more difficult it would have been had not the German Army froze to death by the Russian cold. Think of how the ebb-and-flow attacks from the Battle of the Bulge were influenced if the skies cleared. The advantage in that battle was all about the weather. The rough waters from the Normandy invasion forced the Allies into a one day delay but over ninety-percent of the tanks were never able to set forth in battle mostly because of the raging sea. And the possibility at Midway if Japan’s Carrier Hiryu wasn’t hidden inside a storm we could have had an extra carrier. While the American

You used to think the philosophy 'you only live one' is the most ridiculous excuse for justifying everything you've ever heard of - if you're meant to be reckless and live as fast as you can, 'there's a million and one ways to die' sounds much nicer. Explore them. Investigate them. Enjoy them. Cherish everyone of them, especially that split second between when you lean back in your chair and it hangs midway in air so close the the ground that the only thing you can think of is 'that is it.'

The smell of heated metal in this confined room started to clear my sinuses. As the temperature rose higher and higher, I felt my nose hairs slowly start to shrink and dissipate. As the walls crept closer and closer I realized I was being pushed to my death. The walls were closing on in on me and were forcing me to go in the only direction I didn’t want to. As I felt the heat of the walls start to slowly toast my back, I slid off the ground and into the abyss. As I held myself on the side of the pit for dear life, I find myself fixated on the hell laying below me, unable to avert my eyes. I looked around. Nothing. I looked at the sliding walls. Smooth as ice. There were no windows, no doors. I looked at the ceiling, there was no sky. I looked

My heart skips a beat. All I can think of is Ben when he crumpled on the ground, his arm sliced by the soldier’s sword. I rush over, pushing Perta, and the others out of the way, my breath caught in my throat in relief to see that Melok’s fine. He sits up, his face red, but his breathing fine. He even takes Perta's hand and stands up to talk.

Back now in his apartment, it had been 56 years since that fateful day and still not a moment would go past when the thought of holding Henry’s cold, lifeless hand in his didn’t plague Jim’s thoughts. His days were haunted, with the sound of gunfire and the smell of death lingering in the cold, war ridden air. He gasped for breath as tears streamed down his weathered face, his tired soul had been drained from too many years of grieving. The only thought that kept him going was the belief that he would see Henry again one day soon, in a place free of war, back in their neighbourhood they both once called

James too had begun to feel tiny, reoccurring stabbing sensations in the tips of his left fingers and one on his right; those that he'd penetrated into the black eyes of the demented soldier. The nails were literally falling off of him, like a snake shedding skin; or rather he worried it would reach that precise extent. As he'd feared, the infection had begun to spread, but at any small mercy it was a gradual process. There was still time. Still hope. A crooked, green line ran the full length of his middle finger, but the damage could be repaired. His father's skin was becoming more tainted, violated by the chemicals that he'd created. All of this left his mind as they turned

two kids; perhaps a boy with blonde curly hair and green eyes and a girl with dark brunette hair and brown eyes. Of course our marriage would be out of necessity rather than want. I’ve always loved Gus but in a sort of platonic friendship way. We both know things about each other that no one else but our parents know.

The sound of shattered glass rang out trough the hallways and within seconds the place of mobbed with zombies, clawing at the air of discover the source of the sound.

“I miss Luffy…” Shanks sighs heavily as he finishes his sake cup and turns to Ace.

The blood reddened the sky. Dragging the seriously injured body, Eric flees into the forest to escape from the enemy. As time goes on, he finally falls into a deep coma because of his lack of physical strength.

Violet was thinking long and hard until she finally thought of and idea. She was going to go into the war. "Would they even let a 12 year old into the army?" Violet decided to go to her slave house and decided to ask her owners if she could go. "Its like I'm treated like a dog.." Thought Violet as she went to see her owners. She asked them is she would be able to go to the war. She got laughed at.

The city screamed with life, but the emptiness he felt still drummed through the tight walls of his head. The swamping rush of emotion crept under his face; contorting it in an all-consuming wrath. His nostrils flaring, his eyes flashing and closing into slits, his mouth quivering, slurring inaudible words that came spewing into space like a volcano emancipating the pent up emotions into the void. The pain was unbearable. He couldn’t stop it. He didn’t know how. Grief and regret trailed down his face in two orderly lines, leaking away the dignity that resided in his veins. Soaking the earth with humanity’s grief for the dead.