Creative Writing: Holding Nurse Ratched AKA Killer Mccestie

She helplessly watched in horror as the murderous bullet cracked as loud as thunder and ripped through the air faster than the speed of light, come in contact with his skin in a matter of milliseconds. A crimson red hole appeared on his forehead as quick as a lightning's flash, and slowly a trail of blood leaked from his wound down his face.

It seemed like ages before he was free. He ran back towards the British line, expecting at any moment to feel a bullet rip through him. Then, out of the blue, a single shot rumbled across the dormant battlefield. Ed spun around just in time to see the German commander’s pistol smoking. The machine gunner who had spared his life was slumped over, motionless.

Some of the bullets managed to hit some of the barrels which caused a chain reaction of explosions. Soldiers everywhere were returning fire while other gasping for help. Fletcher scanned around the room for Marcel. He saw him lying behind a brick wall as cover. He seemed to be severely injured as his hand, tainted with blood, covered of what seemed to be several bullet holes. Fletcher couldn’t believe what was happening. There were soldiers lying lifeless here and there. It was complete chaos. Fletcher knew he had been fooled. He knew that secretly there was no prize. He knew that he had to

Thinking about war is a vile image to civilians, but also shallow in knowledge; their conception of war is nothing compared to the horrors that come with the experience of war including what it feels like to have to avoid constant attacks, to have run on minimal food, and to experience death on a daily basis. On the front, soldiers are forced to be on the lookout for random incursions that come their way; it can unexpectedly appear in a variety of deadly forms including shells, gas attacks, open fire, etc. When daylight falls, shells “[boom] through the night like an organ” with a blow so vast that if a soldier were to be hit by “one of those [they’re] killed at sight”; forcing their animal instinct to be awakened which is “far quicker, much more sure” and “less fallible than consciousness” (Remarque 56)(Remarque 59)(Remarque 103).

The air is cluttered from the blasting of cannons, and it is hard to see with the darkness all around us. Piercing sounds of gunshots and pain come from all angles, making France seem like the perfect setting for a nightmare. The ground beneath me shakes like an earthquake every time a cannon is blasted, and it is difficult to keep my balance. The fear that I feel at this moment must only be a portion of what the soldiers are feeling on the battlefield. Smells of dirt and dust linger in the air, and I can’t breathe quite right. There is nothing but terror on this battlefield, and lives are being lost at every moment. I can hear the soldiers yelling at the top of their lungs, “Fire! Fire! Charge!” The British and German soldiers are both yelling commands from all angles, and even horses are understanding. I see horses leaping over barbed wire, dodging bullets, and doing everything they can to keep their soldiers on their backs. Everyone involved in this war, whether German or British, is courageous. German soldiers are dragging their wounded soldiers through the thick mud to try to save their lives. Horses are taking bullets for their soldiers. This is a bloody battle, and the pouring rain is only making this battle harder to

Shells and bullets whiz past the soldiers heads. Boom, a bomb goes off in no man’s land. Fellow comrades have been hit and are bleeding as if they were a spout. Whiz boom, more explosions come and go all day. Who will be hit next? This is the daily life of a soldier in World War I. Other than the physical challenges, one of the hardest parts of being a soldier was surviving with an amount of sanity. To maintain their sanity many soldiers created physiological defense mechanisms to defend their mind set and emotional state. In the war novel All Quiet on the Western Front the main character, Paul, and his company use these physiological defense mechanisms to maintain sanity by forgetting, not thinking, and joking, about the atrocious

All bullets were counted, beds made, uniforms cleaned, this occurred until suddenly 03:45 arrived. “Men, the time is nearly here,” my words choked as self-hatred flooded my body, “What we do here today will be remembered for generations to come, we fight today not only for ourselves, but all who we know. All our mates and family who live back home!” A faint cheer followed my speech as I steadied myself for what was to come. “We charge in 5 minutes. We charge not only for our freedom but for the freedom of our country. For the freedom of the world!” Spit filled the air from the cheer which erupted from my unit this time. A unity formed over the men, a cold malevolent sweat captured me. Who was I to send these boys to their death? A resolve set inside me, I would fight alongside my men, their lives are worth the same as mine. 04:00 “THIS IS IT MEN! WE FIGHT FOR THE WORLD!” I screamed as I led the charge. Vaulting out of the trench I saw no man’s land clearly for the first time. Death was everywhere, flies swarming the pools of blood. The land so barren of life no greenery was seen. A cold resolution set over me, it was the Germans fault, they caused

n the novel One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s nest, laughter is represented differently than it is typically defined. Laughter, by definition, is the action done when one is happy or amused. However, in this novel it represents rebellion, a change, and an overthrowing of power. These representations are presented by the three characters known as R. P. McMurphy, Chief Bromden, and Nurse Ratched. Laughter for R. P. McMurphy represents rebellion.

Corporal Walter Gordon was sitting up outside of his hole at the top of hill 303 the air was thick with soot and he could barely see twenty feet in front of him. Ringing filled his ears as shells exploded overhead, along with the screams of dying men. The enemy was on his front doorstep. While his comrades fell

With his inevitable death looming just minutes, probably even seconds away, he figured he may as well make the most of the time he had left. If he was going to die, he was at least going to take some of these freaks down with him. He thrust his hands into the vat of goop between his legs, and the targeting arrays came to life. The guns had barely finished their

They push their way through the crowd to the side of the obviously terrified soldier. They draw their weapons and point them at the crowd. The crowd does not retreat from the threatening guns of the British officers.

I was mounted upon the forty ton steel beast, M4 Sherman. It trampled and stomped on all of its puny enemies that had opposed it. Up ahead there was a German outpost. My heart flustered in anticipation. Ba-Dum, Ba-Dum, Ba-Dum. Caressing the large crimson button, I was ready to devour. The weapon of mass destruction finished aligning with its marked target; the button like a mole went down then quickly went up. Soaring through the sky like superman, the high explosive shell devastated the side of the building. Swivelling the turret towards the exposed infantry garrisoned there, ready to unleash a storm. However there were two deafening bangs. BOOM! BANG! We were oblivious to the other tanks in our platoons as they wanted to break their boredom. Anyone could have smelt our victory from miles away. This wasn’t a battle, this was a massacre. I could feel medals already in my hands.

Padre is sweating, now steadying the weapon with two hands, he suddenly shuts his eyes tight and fires one round, striking the outlaw in the belly

Fear encases me, flooding my brain with a cold wave of shock as the life bleeds out of his limp form and the soldiers stand, laughing. This is why I have to leave, I can’t stay in a place where they steal the lives of the innocent.

“Stop! you evil scum!” I fear for the poor dimwit who said that. I realise that I said that, I’m the dimwit, It was not long until I was tackled to the floor. The Nazi officer swings at my head with his gun, wielding it as if it was a sword. One giant blow after another, darkness is all I see, pain is all I feel.