It was dark. We were in the midst of a heavy downpour. I lay motionless on the cold, hard cement floor of my prison cell. It had been twenty-four hours since I had been taken in

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English Creative Writing Coursework – First Draft  

Gone with the Shackles…

It was dark. We were in the midst of a heavy downpour. I lay motionless on the cold, hard cement floor of my prison cell. It had been twenty-four hours since I had been taken in…

        

Looking back, it had seemed likely we were going to win the war. It was filled with murderous, bloody and depressing events. But yesterday there had been something in the air. It was not the smell of deceased flesh. It felt like optimism. The invading army was slowly but surly being defeated. At about 1500 hours the front line had gained about eight miles and out adversary had seized fire. Was this just a ploy? Or were they giving up? We did not know for sure. We kept our hopes high though. I decided to take a rest from the chaos that surrounded me. Sleep was a luxury we didn’t take for granted anymore. I slept lightly, waking at the slightest sound. Suddenly I felt a movement beneath me. At first I paid no attention to it, but after a few minutes it became very vexatious. I pulled my pistol out. I aimed at the inanimate creature, which was still unknown to me. It was moving very fast. In my frustration I got ready to pull the trigger. I thought the gun was not loaded so I reached for my bag for some bullets. The bold creature had revealed itself. It was a dirty rat that was nibbling down on my blanket, defiantly. Hurriedly, I tried reloaded my gun. Unknowingly I pulled the trigger, the gun did have bullets in it, and the bullet missed the rat and rapidly hit my foot. My foot was crenellated; blood was splattering everyway in my desolate cell, sending my whole body into a state of complete shock. My foot felt as hot as hell and throbbed uncontrollably… I screamed at the top of my lungs…

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The guards outside had heard the disturbance and rushed through the door as quick as lightning. They hastily informed me I was to be taken to my sergeant for assessment. I pleaded with them that it was an accident, but they didn’t believe me. I was dragged through the besmirched stinky filthy trench, as if I were a rag doll. Painfully, I walked on. I desperately looked around whilst being dragged by. Nobody seemed to notice me; soldiers around me preoccupied with their own tasks.  When we finally reached the sergeants office, he called me in. he was a ...

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