literary,
Literary : Reunion
It was dusk, the soldier was walking along the
familiar path to his town. He was using rifle as a makeshift staff and his
clothes bore signs that fate had not been kind to him. His uniform was singed
in many places and his boots were completely caked with mud. He had a dirty
looking gash on his forehead and the right side of his face was covered with
dried blood.
He had expected to return home as a hero, but ever
since they lost the war, all he ever wanted was to return home safe and sound.
He was not far now, the town was just over the smoke from the chimneys blowing
in the wind. However, something seemed off, there was just a bit more smoke
than there should have been.
He was in the town square, or what used to be the
town square. It was razed to the ground. The town was filled with acrid smell
of burning flesh. Skeletons of houses were the only indication that this had
ever been a town. He dropped his rifle, running across the neighborhood,
calling for his family and friends. Nobody answered. No one was there, not
anymore.
He took out his revolver. His father gave it to him
saying it would bring luck. It did, in a matter of speaking. It kept him safe
but there was no more home to return to. He looked at it, it was his only
remaining friend, it never left his side. He looked up, it was starting to
snow. Good. It would cover the scene. He pulled the trigger and his friend sent
him into the infinite.
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