Creative Writing: All Quiet
Kristina and Trey gathered all of their little belongings mostly caring about the lockbox containing about $3,600 of the finest mexican glass a.k.a meth. Rushing out of their little apartment as soon as possible after seeing a wanted picture in the newspaper of kristina stealing money illegally with a fake id. She thought it was odd that she had very very little remorse about getting up and leaving without saying goodbye to her baby that wouldn't even recognize her, her mom which she stole her identity and money from. It didn't phase her and she kept loading what little belongings she had into Trey's mustang. They rushed onto the snowy freeway still tweaked as usual, but exhausted from no sleep like usual and running from the police and the mexican drug lord that they owe and weren't planning on paying back.
It’s spring now and the winter was terrible let me tell you. There were 10 people dying every day from starvation or freezing to death or disease it was terrible. When we were marching there from the last battle we heard that there was going to be food there for 8 months turns out there was only food for 8 days. General Edwin and a bunch of other soldiers and commanders asked if they could leave and George had to let them go he just asked them if they would come back in the Spring ready to go. Hundreds of soldiers deserted valley Forge and went back home to their families.
As the 104th moves on from their real first test of battle, Stash is relieved he made it out of there alive. One thing for sure that this first battle taught him is always to be aware of what is around him. He told himself, just like in training, he can’t take his eye off anything from this point forward. He now knows this is real. There is no going back now.
The man looked onto the battlefield close and far as the dirt landed and slid off his face the sound of bombs were muffled the cries of men were sharp and penetrating he stood over the breech with such comfort while a hundred thousand fear riddled eyes stared from behind he turned his face deep wrickled and rugged filthy his eyes with dark bags underneath from nights with no sleep but the faces he saw were much different men no more than 30 with their whole lives maybe not even 10 minutes ahead of them he's seen it a hundred times before he knew these men were divided they were there together but they were going in it alone with this in mind the man stared back and spoke "At the edge of our hope... At the end of our time... WE CHOOSE TO BELIEVE
The devastation behind the soldier stood on the edge of his mind, but nevertheless was not in his thoughts. The man standing in front of him dominated his thoughts and instigated a war deep within the soldier. The man was plain on all accounts; he was middle-aged, wore glasses, had a receding hairline, but his image was now stained in the soldier’s memory. This man merely wanted to get by, most likely to confirm the death of a loved one, but no matter how many times the soldier thought about it, he would never know exactly why. The only knowledge that burdened the soldier was his duty, and his duty was to keep this man at bay.
Dear Mother, It’s has been indisputable here in the trenches, I’m in dire need of new socks. The doctors say they might have to amputate my foot if my trench foot gets any worse. Also if you could provide me with some next time you send me a package I would be beholden to you. In addition to the already gruesome situation, the rats have begun to eat the dead in no man’s land, and steal my bread when I’m not looking.
what is it that makes us feel the need to escape? Today was a totally different day; for the first time the sky wasn't pitch black covered with smoke everywhere, and there was no noise coming from the fighter jets, or guns, there were people repairing the broken up houses and filling up the trenches that were once considered useless to fix. For the first time in a very long time old Jenking's bar was open, and there was noise of partying and laughter coming from there. "This could mean only one thing; the war was finally over" The war that took away so many lives, the war that separated people living on the same grounds with just a painted white boundary was finally over. "This meant I could finally cross that line and I could explore
Still that didn’t deter him from his search as his gaze finally landed on the flames in the middle of his clearing. Surrounding the small bonfire sat three men who were now looking in his direction. The whispers had stopped, and the only sound was the crackling of the fire as well as the sounds of nature around him. It was then he realized that not only had he fallen asleep, but he had fallen asleep with strangers nearby.
So long as he had been able to hold a view of things in which time was just moments, then days, each one destroying itself in the next; so long, that is, as it was a process without sequence, he could face himself and hang on. Living was vertical. You stood up new in each moment of it, and if you were strong, and luck was with you, you got from one moment to the next. It was all moments and leaps. But now he had to take on again the notion of a self that was continuous, that belonged to the past and was to have a hfe again in the future.
The Counsel’s Elders poured into the feeble balcony of the Great Hall; each straggled shuffle contributed to an apathetic rainstorm of footsteps, only to be muffled by a thunderous roar as they sat down. Lazy floodlights panned over the row of grey-hooded figures. Below the Elders, a young man knelt within a painted circle, tears streaming across his face. A guttural chant began to cut into the stale air like a sickle: “Born by the Sins of Gemini, we await the humble sacrifice . . .” * * * * *
When I twisted the copper doorknob of the wooden bedroom door, I was greeted by a sea of tiny, porcelain faces. The collection of unpleasant porcelain creatures filled the room with a frightening essence, sending a frigid chill up my spine. I could practically feel their miniscule glazed eyes piercing the back of my neck, following my every move. The wallpaper was a dark, pine green, and it looked worn in a few places, peeling ever so slightly at the edges. A stained glass window swirling with vibrant ceruleans, jades, and ambers, took up the entirety of the wall in front of me.
The trees rustled listlessly in the dying breeze, whilst the windblown dead leaves beneath their horse’s hooves crunched ominously, making it seemed, much noisier in the silence of the forest which surrounded them as the patrol probed ever deeper into its secret depths. There was no birdsong to be heard anywhere. The silence was almost deathly in its intensity, making the motley band of men even more uneasy, than they needed to be. Not only, did they not look the part, but in actuality, they weren’t in any respect whatsoever: A hastily thrown together assortment, the sweepings of the gutter, some whimpering Italians, forever complaining vocally, some other foreigners of dubious origins, some raw recruits, who knew nothing, and were never likely
Why did the door sound so loud when it closed? I cannot believe how quiet it is. I wish mother could treat me the same as everyone else. She treats everyone with a passionate heart but treats me like a child like I don’t know how to look after myself. Why does she hate me but love Margot.
Many say that the gods are supposed to respect each other. They're wrong. Mortis was born troubled- born thinking that everyone was against him, incapable of understanding anything but hatred, anger, and sadness. The brothers were arguing about the most recent battle of the great houses.
Darkness. The flick of a switch. Light, dim and twittering, on a well-used study in the basement of a turn-of-the-century mansion.
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