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Creative WritingInto the war With high-speed bullets flying overhead, we are running through the brown oozing restricted
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Creative Writing Into the war With high-speed bullets flying overhead, we are running through the brown oozing restricted communication trench; the sodden mud squelches under our feet, the mud absorbs through our leather boots. We continue on. The frontline is in our view. "Man down, man down" cries Felix. His face camouflaged black and olive brown from gun residue and greasy mud. His lips are blue as the sky was once; meanwhile Alfred crashes down into the moss philanthropic mud. He must have slipped, Felix clambers down to Alfred consequently I call back "Is he alright?" "I believe so," Felix shouts back, Alfred clambers up; his face is blacker from the residue and greasy mud however he has lost and eye and is left with a piercing slash across his right eye, a piece of shrapnel had launched into his eye from a missile smashing into the ground earlier today. We continue on to...
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