Write a short story based on Bayonet Charge
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Bayonet Charge I fell asleep, sound in peace. My head rested on a white feather filled pillow, which was as soft as the cotton plants that grew in the fields. A beautiful quilted blanket covered me, as the snow covered the very tops of the highest mountains. Abruptly, a cold breeze fell upon me. I wanted to dive deeper and deeper into my blanket, but found it was no longer there. I twisted and turned, trying to find warmth. All I found was isolation. I heard noises in the distance. Harsh cries echoed in the air. The slashing of swords made me cringe and the firing of bullets was deafening.
There was blood everywhere, weeping into the grass and bullets were smacking the belly out of the air. Death lingered in every corner of the landscape. Just then, I had a sudden realisation, that the peaceful experience I had was just a dream. None of it was real bar the sound effects in the dream. I stumbled across a field towards a green hedge. The patriotic tear that had brimmed in my eye was for both my country and myself. This kept me running. I pushed past the bullets, whilst other soldiers crashed to the ground. I had to fight. But then a small part of my mind asked âwhy?
Its mouth wide open. Silent. Its eyes were standing out. What I saw was beyond any nightmare. It was so terrifying, that I should have been scarred for life. My heart stopped for a brief second, hoping it would disappear when I blinked. No matter how hard I tried, it remained. I stood still for a moment, gathering all of the courage that was left inside me. I plunged past with my bayonet, toward the green hedge. On my way, I killed people who now whimpered and cried until death got them. Iâd killed people I didnât even know. Strangers. Iâd forgotten all about king, honour and human dignity. I forgot everything in a moment of uncertainty, the need to survive overpowering my compassion. To get out of that blue crackling air. Out of my terrorâs touchy dynamite.
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