RANDOM SCENE 7
AUTHOR'S NOTE: I wrote this scene (not a complete story) as part of a writing exercise in response to a survey. The goal was to show a character's emotions after they shoot someone in the line of duty. The characters here are from my furry story The Trench Rats--Citrine is a lance-corporal and has been in the battalion for a while, while Reseda and Amaranth are "newbies." They'll eventually figure out how war works...
"It's too quiet," Amaranth whined softly, and Reseda held up one hand to shush him. At the other side of the trench Citrine rolled his eyes and spat. "You'd prefer hand grenades and bombs going off?" "You know he's right," Reseda retorted in a quiet voice. "I think I'd prefer all that to wondering what the hell they're up to over there." "That's why we're sitting here. So we find out." He spat again, and Reseda wondered if he did it just to be insulting. "Get used to it, newbie. Bad guys don't usually just stand up and let you know when they're coming." He hated being treated condescendingly. "Is that a fact?" he snapped a little louder than he'd intended. "Maybe you should take a look up there then and let us know what they're planning, just so it's easier on us 'poor newbies.'" "Why don't you? Get some good experience." This time Reseda spat. And then he wasn't sure why he'd done it. Citrine smirked and the other Trench Rat stood and pushed himself up, grabbing onto the crumbling edge of the trench and lifting his head to peer up and over to the outside. The first thing he saw was dirt. And then a gun, bayonet on the end, coming right for his face. His eyes goggled and he let out an odd strangled noise which caught the other Rats' attention. He managed to let go and fall into the trench, landing on his back, before the knife could gouge out his eye, but before he could get to his feet the soldier had appeared at the edge, raising the gun with a snarl on his face. The other Rats only gaped, caught off guard. Bang. A red blossom formed on the German's chest and his arms faltered. His fingers loosened and the gun slowly fell from his hand. His eyes rolled back a bit and he sagged to the ground, his knees buckling so he fell backwards and not down into the trench with them. He hit the ground almost in slow motion and stopped moving. Reseda, Amaranth, and Citrine all stared up at him. Then Citrine and Amaranth looked back down at Reseda. He still lay in the mud staring up, wondering what had happened--who had saved them?--only to feel something cold and heavy in his hands; his fingers were clutching it so tightly that they ached. His gaze wandered down to see the glinting piece of metal in his grip, barrel still smoking. He stared at it numbly, wondering how it got there, when it had been fired. Was it his gun? He didn't even remember drawing it. Yet now that it was in his hands, his fingers cold and wet and his hands beginning to shake, his skin clammy and his breath coming shallow, the thought of letting go of it made his heart squeeze up into his throat, threatening to burst out of his chest. The whole thing must have taken less than a few seconds, yet it had seemed like hours. END |
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