After the Battle: Descriptive Essay

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After the Battle: Descriptive Essay

A jumble of limbs and skin, not that I knew it, I was just another fragment of the landscape, a surface of khaki and blood, surrounded the shore, clouded a dusky pink where a ship sat deserted and alone. Sand gatherings were sleek as they followed the wind and flustering specs as sharp as glass, were deciding where to settle, inspecting every body, join it for a while, but would soon be gone.

Now my clothes are crusted with blood, a gunshot so neat can rip through your body; like a mole it burrow’s within the depths of flesh, blood and bone, stopping at nothing to pass to the other side. A gunshot so destructive, can take no longer than a fraction of a millisecond, to puncture your heart, to suck the air from your lungs and leave the blood to empty your veins hour after hour. Hour after hour…its time to bleed. I could no longer feel the bitter sting of the burning sand on my open wounds, nor the suffocating inner walls of the tunnels, carved by a bullet, still seeping. All I could feel was a general ache, the fact that I’m still alive, seems inadequate.

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I feel like a tap that has been left on, drip, drip, waiting for my life, to be effortlessly, cut off. I could well be melting and the taste of the fluids dripping from my face is recognisable, I am drowning in my own blood, sweat and tears.

Hesitating to open my eyes, I think of a rusty gate as the weight is so difficult to lift, secured with glue-like mucus, sharp and jagged in some places, my eyelids seem to be made of metal, brittle and disabled by age and rust. How long had I been here? ...

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