For several days in succession fragments of a defeated army had passed through the town. They were mere disorganized bands, not disciplined forces. The men wore long, dirty beards and tattered uniforms; they advanced in listless fashion, without a flag, without a leader. All seemed exhausted, worn out, incapable of thought or resolve, marching onward merely by force of habit, and dropping to the ground with fatigue the moment they halted. One saw, in particular, many enlisted men, peaceful citizens, men who lived quietly on their income, bending beneath the weight of their rifles; and little active volunteers, easily frightened but full of enthusiasm, as eager to attack as they were ready to take to flight; and amid these, a sprinkling of red-breeched soldiers, the pitiful remnant of a division cut down in a great battle; somber artillerymen, side by side with nondescript foot-soldiers; and, here and there, the gleaming helmet of a heavy-footed dragoon who had difficulty in keeping up with the quicker pace of the soldiers of the line. Legions of irregulars with high-sounding names "Avengers of Defeat," "Citizens of the Tomb," "Brethren in Death"--passed in their turn, looking like banditti.
The storm clouds were dark, gloomy and grim like a graveyard. They were near the surface of the earth. It was going to rain. They were lingering on. The soldiers’ uniforms were repeatedly buffeted by the howling gale. The sky was as black as a devil’s soul. A large boom echoed across the crimson battlefield as the lighting returned the thunder’s call. Endless calls for help could be heard. Then, the rain started pouring down, filling up the battle field, like a flood, as the constant sound of the rain pounding on the metal could be heard. Heavy boots pressed down on the wet mud, which would not be dry for the next week, due to the trenches. The trenches were six-foot-deep and reeked of dead bodies and human excrement.
Dawn broke through the tops of the trees; the fine rays of sunlight, glimmering off the needle-shaped leaves as they swayed in the soft winter winds. No more than a day ago the snowstorms had ceased. The blizzards had frozen men alive in their tracks, or as they slept through the night, life had drifted from their stone cold bodies. But now all was calm. Nothing stirred but the delicate snow falling upon the fields, capping the tall soldier pines and burying the glaze-eyed, petrified figures. The remaining troops were dwindling by the days. Too war-torn and starved to produce the usual racket that could be heard among the cohort. The only sound they ever seemed to make, was the constant cantankerous whining for a fire; or else the moans as
Dr. Owens tells me it's called Sciophobia. He says I’m afraid of shadows. But they’re not just shadows, and no one, no one believes me. Everyone just always accepts the fact that shadows are there, casted when light is draped over an object. Darkness, that's what they truly are. Infinite darkness. They are the demons we are born with; they follow us from birth to death.
Back in the main level of the factory, Wolf and Fox find Hawk lying on the ground, pale and unresponsive, his bulletproof vest next to him and the edges of a red stain showing around a wad of gauze. A soldier that Fox assumes is N-Unit's medic kneels next to him, along with Snake and Coyote. The three medics are talking frantically among themselves. The rest of N-Unit hovers nervously nearby; the rest of H-Unit is nowhere to be seen. Dust particles dance through the beams of sunlight from the holes where windows used to be, giving the whole scene a strangely dreamy air.
The driver, Cecilia Blair, of vehicle 1 was traveling north through the intersection of N. State St. and Flint St. when she had a collision with vehicle 2. The driver, Jacqueline Muir, of vehicle 2 was heading west on Flint St. when she was struck by vehicle 1.
I write to you today from a hospital bed in France. I know that may sound bad, but truly I am one of the lucky ones. I have lost so many friends in this past battle. I am sure you have probably heard news of this back home in England already. The first day of the battle on the Somme was a dark day indeed. I have heard it word here that it could have been one of the bloodiest battles to date. I do not even know how to begin describing the war, but I have to describe it to someone. I would never want to tell my parents of these horrors I am facing; it would be far too much for them to bear. You are my closest friend back home, and I know if it were not for your health issues, you would be here fighting too, so I feel I can tell you about all this. I know I volunteered for this, but I never in a million years could have predicted what war would truly be like. Looking back on it though, we are truly lucky that Britain is a country that relies on volunteer
Whoever that is, was it so obvious that she was torn? Dizzy wondered if it was just Fallen that might notice or if she were wearing some damned sign or something. Maybe it was a guess, or nothing at all, Dizzy had no idea but she didn't want to dwell on it. Not when she had something that actually made her happy right in front of her. "Well anyone after any part of you will have to go through me." she spoke with a real amount of censarity in her words before a shiver ran down her spine.
graveyard. The leaves on the trees swayed back and forth with a soft moan of the
The sun was about to rise, but it was still dark outside in the city of Crete. A tall muscular man with chestnut brown hair and eyes that shifted between an emerald green and an electric blue was getting ready for the upcoming race by running laps around the city. His name was Grigolo and he claimed to be the fastest runner on the planet. Grigolo got out of his bed quite loudly and his wife stirred in her sleep groggily asking,
As the second battle begins, Henry and his regiment march fiercely toward the rebels. They fought with courage and bravery and had pushed the enemy back . “Well we've helt 'em back. We've helt 'em back; derned if we haven't!” said some of the union soldiers. Smiles broke out all over the battlefield, that was until the enemy had came back with such power in one swift blow it left the union soldiers running for the hills. This retaliation had struck fear into the union soldiers and most of them began to run. Henry looked around and saw nothing but death and agony in his fellow soldiers. This gruesome sight had left Henry mortified. He had forgotten everything
It’s was a hot Friday evening in California, with the sun glaring down at everyone and heat
There was a Giraffe named Harambe and it had a little bit of gorilla in it but he did not know that yet so Harambe was living a normal life of a Giraffe just like all of them. So one-day Harambe was walking through the thick forest it was as green as money and harambe were looking for some good leaves to eat. he was not paying attention and wandered into gorilla territory and they went wild then this gorilla came out of nowhere and she looked familiar but she ran away Harambe decided to follow her when he caught up with her she was super shy and Harambe said: “You look familiar.” “Do I know you.” surprisingly she said “Yes.” I do not know where from but she knew me and out of nowhere she said: “I am your mother.” I was so shocked I ran all
The noise is much too loud, the screeching sounds of metal against metal. There is the scent of smoke, the fire burning everything in its wake. I start running towards the exit, dozens of others sprinting behind me as well. Everyone knows they did it—they being the group that ironically calls themselves “Freedom,” who find joy in terrorizing and patronizing innocent people. The government group, originally created to help improve equality rights, fell into a rut about six months ago, when a new leader came into power and completely brainwashed the members of the group. The entire country became a disaster in a matter of weeks.
The putrefied smell of death hung over the battlefield. The soldiers in the front line dropped dead one after the other like trees being uprooted in a tornado. Men were “guttering”, “choking” and “drowning”, as molten red blood spurted from their wounds. The ground carpeted with rotting bodies and a vile smell arose which the horror of combat couldn’t mask. The explosions, bullets and the dying were screaming and it rang throughout the battlefield. War was unsympathetic and brutal, which caused the savagery deaths of hundreds of soldiers.
Dancing With Skeletons his paternal stare fashioning desolation "Speak, are you in love with Her?” not a decade old cloud-shaped shadows littered cheeks grass laced strands of gold painting over blues hurried hands and steadfast strokes She made her look blind thousand sunsets late souls, hearts, and minds intertwined harmless, not defined a home barred with gold dancing with the skeletons kept in her closet decade and five, blood diluted before her eyes their love matching hers dusks turned overcast recitals, sedentary a ribcage of shame misconstrued villain cowering from the monsters that claimed her closet blinking again, trapped in his scalding coldness deafeningly mute tossing back the truth