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Creative Writing: The Vietnam War

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The world turned to into a battle zone, the death toll was around five billion. The war lasted for ten years.”She lays pictures on the table. They're yellowed and worn. Their depiction’s showing horrid things: women, children, and men hiding under debris, and the remnants of buildings, their eyes wide with fear. Colossal building reduced to rubble and ash. Deep trenches dividing the land, men with huge guns by their sides. Worst of all, the amount of dead bodies strewn over the imploding streets, like glitter thrown in the air. How could people do that, and feel justified? “The aftermath was disastrous.” She says, “ Cities that were once thriving, cultural centers, were now piles of glass, brick, cement, and crumbling ruins. The land that was …show more content…

We need you to infiltrate the White House, find the serum, and destroy it.” I was right, they want me to go on a suicide mission against the government of The United States of America. “Why me?” I ask.“Because,” she replies, “it's in your blood.” “What does my blood have to do with anything? I retort. “Your mom worked for the CIA, she was a spy. She was undercover amongst the Human Purity organization. When she found out about the serum, she tried to destroy it, which resulted in her death.” She stops then. What! My mom was NOT a spy, she was a computer analyst, and she died in a car crash, I even saw her car. “You're lying.” I said, my voice terse. “My mom was a computer analyst, she died in a car crash!” I am yelling now. “You think you can concoct this bogus story of my mother, to get me to do your bidding?!” I say, rising to my feet. “Well, guess what: I'm not doing it. I don't want to be a hero, or a martyr. You can find someone else!” I shout at her. She starts toward me “Don't you dare touch me.” I snap, my voice tense and …show more content…

I looked down, trying to conceal the tears welling in my eyes, but failing, as they spilled over my cheeks. I wipe them away, and look up. This got my mother killed, and I want no part of it. “I don't want to do the mission.” I say. “You can always find someone else.” “No,” she said “we can't.” She opens the file folder, and pulls out what appears to be documents. “These documents dictate that only a descendant of Nora Scott can retrieve the serum, in the event it was ever stolen.” Before I can ask why, she answers. “The leaders of the CIA decreed that because of her bravery, integrity, strength, and her ability to push fear away. They had never met anyone like her, and thought that only a descendant of her would be able to accomplish that task. They will not make any acceptions. I tried to get the leaders to forfeit that decree, but they trust the former leaders decision. That is why you have to go on the mission. You are the only one who can do it.” I looked down, away from her face. I don't want to be a martyr. I want to live my live just as I was. I don't want to risk my life. I don't want to do any of it. But it doesn't matter what I want. The world will crumble if I don't accept the mission. Chaos and destruction will once again destroy the world we've built, and people could die. Those things are far more important than what I want. I look back at Eliza, and nod my head. “Okay,” I say. “Tell me the

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