Creative Outlet – a blog full of stories and personal musings


Lone Warrior (Short Story)

The gun's metal felt cold in my hands. Yet another explosion nearby. I stared down the trench I was positioned in. Lots of dead bodies, soldiers, friends. Simon's lifeless eyes stared directly at me. A gaping bullet head in his skull stared, as well. I gulped down some saliva, yet my mouth was completely dry. I was sweating, yet it was freezing. I was warm and I was cold. An artillery shell exploded close by and I shielded my eyes from dirt. I heard a scream from further down the trench. Yet another casualty in a war that should never have been. He had been drafted against his will, yet was on the top list of recruits. The drill sergeants have called him a "killer that doesn't want to kill" and patted him hardly on the back. It was true, of the 12 missions he had been on, he have had the highest amount of confirmed kills. He knew he had his family support but now that he was stuck in a hell hole of a trench, in biting cold, all he could think of was being home. His friends. His family. His ex girlfriends. His life before the war. Abruptly taken away from him, just because this country had to flex it's muscles. Again.

He knew he would not survive this battle. As soon as the HQ had radioed in "RETREAT, THIS ONE IS LOST!" he knew it was bad to be in the front lines. Several squads stayed behind to make sure that most of us would get out. I was the last alive of my squad, so I figured it would be best just to stay. Avenge my friends against the enemy. But, I suddenly realized that the enemy is not them. We are our own enemy. We are here, in a country we have no business in. Another explosion. I sighed. Tears streaming out of my eyes, making everything blurry and foggy. My friends, I will never see them again. They will never see me again. My family. My dog. My education. The life I had built. Gone. I dropped my weapon. Crawled over to Simon to close his eyes. Simon, always taking about all the women he conquered. Came from a middle class family, no education or job. He was too young, killed by a sniper bullet to the head. His family will be proud. They thought it was best for him to serve the country. I smiled, thinking about the time he picked up a girl, who was a man in drag. I am sure we never heard all of that story. I looked up. Another explosion. I could hear no gun shots. Sounds like everyone except me is dead or have retreated. I could see movement further up ahead. I think they have advanced on me. I raise my hands, as a young guy came charging in, most likely expecting more than a lot of dead corpses and one guy, unharmed. He pointed his gun at me.

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