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Creative Writing: My First Vietnam War

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I can hear the distant echoes of screams and gunshots, but they can hardly drown out the rapidly beating rhythm of my own heart. Looking through the small, filthy window, full of grime and dirt from the chaos outside, I see the soldiers marching away and dragging an innocent man with them.
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.
A soft pressure on my hand stirs me from my slow descent into misery. Looking up, I meet the kind yet frail face of my only family left: Grandma. She is the sole reason that some light still peeks through the hooded cloud of death …show more content…

Packing my life away. How can I possibly pack a lifetime of memories into one bundle? Yet, these are the sacrifices of war; limiting myself to a few precious memories to recall the times when home was overfilling with warmth and happiness.
I tentatively place my most precious possession, a storybook, into the bundle as if it holds the secrets of the universe. It was given to me by my parents right before the soldiers violently tore them from my arms. Stifling the cries trying to crawl up my throat, I continue packing and soon, all my memories lie safely in the bundle.
Looking up, I exchange a glance with my grandma and I know it’s time to leave our home, but then again, we’re only leaving because home won’t let us stay. I glance at my home for one final time, and before the onslaught of memories and sadness can attack me, we leave the house in the dead of the night.
With silent, even paces, we tread, ignoring the palpable fear polluting the air and silently praying that the soldiers do not find us.
Abruptly, we stop when an army of footsteps as mighty as thunder overpowers our passage to freedom. Soldiers. Paralysing fear spreads through my body like poison, and closing my eyes tight, I squeeze grandma’s hands. It’s over. Three months of preparation and our escape plan …show more content…

Silence washes over us and we barely release any breaths as the soldiers march by us without stopping. Finally, I release my breath and my heart slows. We’re safe for now, they didn’t spot us.
What I fail to notice is that Grandma lies on the ground, her fragile legs no longer supporting her. Dropping my bundle of memories I reach for her, and I don’t know how but an unknown strength passes over me like lightning, and I lift her lithe form in my hands. My bundle long forgotten, I carry Grandma with carefully measured paces hidden under the dark shadows of the night, to where our vessel to freedom waits.
Reaching the docks, a small boat waits. The boat is already overflowing with people ready to flee their homes towards a safer future. Gently setting my Grandma down, I hold her hands in a vice like grip to keep her steady on her feet.
Nearby, I spot a small family exchanging their final goodbyes with a young boy, his face full of the innocence held only by children. Tears were spilling down his soft face like rain, and I knew that he has to get on the boat alone, without his family. Yet these are the sacrifices of

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