Short Story

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

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.

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

The scarred leader stalked through the battle ground, the screeches of the wounded falling on deaf ears. They were no use to him now. Through the rain and darkness he moved, cutting through the battle like a knife. A slight smile hovered on his twisted face.

It came darkly, uncertainly. The shrill screaming that rose before the beast was like a pain. The beast stumbled into the horseshoe. “Kill the beast!Cut his throat!Spill his blood!” The blue-white scar was constant, the noise unendurable.

Hiroc sprinted along the bulwark. A scynnfol dived for him, and he leaped over it. He kept clenching and opening his fists, releasing bolts that slew scynnfol after scynnfol.

Beside him, Kareste did likewise. Fire lashed out from her fingers. It lit the tunnel with a sizzle of light and heat, but when it subsided the warriors were still there, advancing upon them, driving them deeper into the tombs.

The interrogation room I was sitting in was cold and kind of dark. I get why it's like this but I don't understand why I'm here.

A storm rolled throughout the town. Munro and his squad were pinned down near their lander. “No no no this is not how i would start this book. it's been done so many times before. What this need is something different. Something.... Oh I know. Explosions.” Rose said scribbling out the her starter paragraph.

On top of the wall, the nervous army scattered around trying to get in position. Grabbing their weapons and clutching them till their hands went white with fear. They could hear the screeching screams of the demons hiding behind

Devoid of movement or light, the cockpit's only hint of life was the insistent hum and faint bio-chemical stink within.

Weiss crept through the woods alone, it was late afternoon and the sun was beginning to set. The Atlas sky was being decorated with beautiful shades of reddish pink. It had been a while since Weiss had been out at this hour, given an opportunity to see such a sight, but she had to pass up the chance of watching the alluring skyline. Weiss was on a mission, a mission of which she was limited on time, so she had no time to waste. Earlier that afternoon, Weiss had received an anonymous message, the anonymous sender of said message claimed that Weiss' trusted partner was in their possession. And in order to save her, Weiss would have to meet them at a certain longitude, and latitude location at six o'clock pm sharp with no weapon, or other

I looked at him confused, “How can that be? I was pulled over a few months ago for expired tags and was told that if I get it all straightened out it would be okay.”

The room is filled with yelling and arguing voices, all the while Cassandra’s mother stands idly by. She rests her head in her hands as she weeps, tears soaking her already soiled blouse. It had been months since her daughter had arrived here, and there was little to no hope left in the tiny woman.

A dark figure glided down the steps holding a sword with a blade that glimmered in a translucent fashion. A wave of fear and nausea coursed through Britta. She started to reach for the necklace to break the connection.