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A Battle With Neutrality, pt. I
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A Battle With Neutrality, pt. I |
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Katerie Member
since 2006-01-27
Posts 92Central New York |
Had God taken a glance our way through the polluted haze, clouds, and empty atmosphere, I think that it would have, in his opinion, appeared nearly comic in nature. I don't believe that this would have been because it was truly amusing, worthy of moist-eyed laughter. Men were men until they slipped on their choice of earth-toned uniforms, closed them up eternally with their padlock-like buttons, and laced up their boots, with shoestrings that might as well have been chains. It was a situation where the best soldiers lacked all form on conviction, whereas the worst, conversely, had passion and strength beyond all imagination. It would seem that, had he been as he was said to be, omnispresent, he would have done something to stop the fighting- there wouldn't be enough room either in heaven, or hell for that matter, to hold us all. However, not even the largest of knives could have, without significant damage, made its way cleanly through the animosity, and sheer hate that settled between opposing trenches, and not even the largest of rainstorms could have rinsed away the residue of such feelings, the blood, and the propaganda, whic this war of nothing short of pure rage satisfied itself in providing. Obviously, though, he hadn't taken time to busy an already weary eye with such nonsense. Reasons for anything during this time were clouded and warped, truth indistinguishable from fabrication. In any case, I would prefer to believe, over anything else, that he was aware of what ws going on, but had chosen not to interject. We all knew, including him, on his throne of thrones, that he would see us all sooner or later, and by choosing either, he'd also be choosing to act a fool. Nobody was to survive, and for all of us- allies, central powers, and those at home waiting on edge for our return- it was only a matter of time. Quick and glorious victories ceased to exist, and several of us remained in definite battle for months. During this time, a constant air of anxiety mixed with the stench of rotting flesh, mud, sweat, and mechanical pollution, to create a concoction which was unfit for the purposes of respiration. Because bodies were buried shallowly, and nearly where they fell, the occasional appropriately warm, and would-be beautiful day was hindered significantly by the corpses that dried, swelled, and burt, releasing a ridiculous amount of bacteria into the already contaminated water. Thus, dysentery was not uncommon, and killed a fair amount of infectees unto itself. Because for a while, it was unknown what caused such sever stomach cramps, sweating, and inexcusable diarrhea, men were left with their partners to pass it along, like a baton in a relay race. Eventually, however, it was found that it was contagious, and those who were sick with this particular malady were removed. This prove ineffective, however, because many of them knew what was wrong with them no sooner than they collapsed, never to rise again. All of this contributed to the reason why we were not only consistently exhausted, but indefinitely thirsty. I reached behind me, my arms sore and unwilling to move, for my mud-caked and worn canteen, full of that which was deemed safe to drink, only after being purified with what seemed to be a great deal of chloride of lime. The liquid, which couldn't possibly have fallen under the category of "water," stung my cracked, and quite likely infected lips upon contact, causing me to choke, and spit out about half of it, leaving me less satisfied than before. "What the hell's the matter with you, Frost?" Bailey Manning was a man, quite a feew, maybe seven years older than I. However, he had been there longer than I had, served on the front line for most of that time, and even spent a few weeks in Dresden, before he ended up here- not too close to the front, but not far enough astray to avoid withnessing most of the hardcore battle and slaughter, which occured on and off, and without warning. This had aged him a great deal. The once smooth skin that stretched taught over his broad, angular face, gave way to deep wrinkles, strained and painful looking. These crevices, almost like cracks in a fault zone, acted as river beds for sweat and water when it rained. he was muscular, and strong when it was appropriate, yet inadvertaently and shamefully cruel. The shame lay not within Bailey Manning, though, but regarding him, coming largely from those who he was surrounded by. I could tell that he was not always so stoic, and annoyingly unconscious of what he had taken to saying when he thought we were doing something unfit for admirable battle. Fighting had done something to him, something I had hoped, with all my heart, was not going to happen to me; something I refused to give in to. "Nothing," I lied, not without haste. It was fairly quiet, as it usually was around this time of afternoon. This was probably because it was the hottest, and most taxing time of day to do anything at all, including breathing, and simply remaining conscious. Things were different here. "Reload. I'm going to shoot again," he grunted. I obeyed. He was leader, and at this point, self-appointed or not, it was safe to assume that what Bailey Manning says, Bailey Manning means, and his word was most definitely law. [This message has been edited by Katerie (05-08-2006 07:58 PM).] |
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| © Copyright 2006 Kate Sands - All Rights Reserved | |||
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fractal007 Senior Member
since 2000-06-01
Posts 1958 |
Impressive writing. The spelling could be improved, though. I liked your comments about God taking sides. However, I find that there are some inconsistencies in style in this piece. For example, you begin rather poetically, and then you follow up with an almost textbook description of the bacterial infections of the battlefield. Perhaps you did that to convey the breadth of the narrator's personality? Any idiot can see that the result is true. |
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Katerie Member
since 2006-01-27
Posts 92Central New York |
I'm about to edit, now actually. It was a project for my 10H English class recently, just a short story- but that's not it in full. The reason the spelling is so poor is because I didn't type it at home in word processing before I posted it here- it started out in a window like the one I'm typing in now. I'm off to fix it. As for the inconsistencies, I'm going to go back, read, and edit this message, because I'm not sure I know what you mean yet. Thanks for reading, though! [Edit: I've just gone through and fixed all of the spelling. Everyone who has already read this must think that I'm illiterate. I will openly admit that those were careless, and absurd mistakes, and I do apologize for that. It was horrible. I did actually switch abrubtly like that purposely, and you will find that throughout the rest of the story (I still need to type about half of it). It's a constant battle between his wanting to straight out tell the story, and leave out his emotions, and the other side, which relates to being physically, as well as emotionally involved, and thoroughly opposed to what was going on at the time, as many were. I was hoping to make it very real this way, but I'm learning. |
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Clang Member
since 2005-12-15
Posts 222 |
I liked this. I hope you post the rest. I also hope you continue to work on it and not set it aside. Thanks for sharing it. |
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