No Mans Land

This is basically a short story I wrote in a club I go to. It's not brilliant, but it's okay...


1. No mans land

In between the heaps of bodies left laying limp and lifeless on the floor, mud flaking off of their blood stained clothes, stood a poppy with its stem perfectly upright, forcing its way through the mess to reveal it's petals to the dull night sky. Without waring, a foot trod through the sea of rotting skellingtons, flattening the soil and leaves underneath the led weight boots. Seperating the people with a slight nudge of the foot here and there, the only alive soul made their way deeper into the woods, as it got further and further into the night. The wind whistled through the bare branches, sending the odd remaining leaf spirallig down to the ground, catching the slight freeze as they fell. The moon shone between the trees, casting eery shadows all around.Quiet whispers circled the clearing; empty whispers; hollow and alone. Dispair echoed in their voices, as they said their last goodbyes, or cried their wives names. Gunshots rang in the distance, drowning out the thoughs of the dead. The boots kept on walking, the mud getting worse and worse, trying to drag his feet further and further in.; water was close. Picking up the pace with every step, the figure reached the stream. In front of him, the running water was crimson red with blood. The smell of burnt flesh watered their eyes, and make their stomach churn. The figure was a man. He got down on his knees, head in his lap and prayed. He prayed for survival. He prayed for his first time on no mans land wouldn't be his last. Little did he know he was wrong.

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