Post by Mles on Aug 27, 2008 18:14:53 GMT -5
I did a 5 paragraph essay (story) for my English class. Here is what I started on. Not done by any means, the action comes soon. Criticism welcome!
The Escape of a Traitor
The sound of yelling rings throughout a shallow valley. Barking like a dog, a man in a green camouflage uniform and a beret decorated with a simple red star, sound offs commands so demanding even a wild dog would obey. They carry assault rifles, dirty, grimy and loaded. Their rifles sway on slings, looking farther up reveals bayonets attached to the barrel that show hints of past combat. The man himself has his uniform arranged in a casual manor. His camouflage jacket is tucked in, but reveals mud on the armpits and sleeves. The pants of the man are partially torn as if he ran through knives. The only material on the man that seems to be in proper order is his beret. The beret could be mistaken as if it just was stitched and put together. The beret: a true sign of dignity and patriotism. The man himself is simple. He has a thin gray moustache that matches his hair and a broken face that could freeze one upon first look. He possesses a certain trait that commands, fears and most of all punishes.
The shallow valley, mist engulfed, houses a small camp. The camp too, is dirty and shows age. With only two buildings inside, several makeshift tents stand barely erect. One particularly large tent has a group of disciplined soldiers barring rifles. They patrol like a herd of tigers. Each regularly walks into the tent and leaves. Upon walking into the tent, the smells of hunger, hatred and despair come alive. Small sleeping bags are placed around the tent’s interior in a very organized fashion. Each has a small table in which a toothbrush, a Bible and a pen are sitting atop. Skinny, tired men lay in the sleeping bags like maggots in a dead animal corpse. Each man is dressed the same, in a pair of worn khaki’s and a gray tattered tee shirt. Traitors and prisoners of war (POW), trapped in a cold, death filled valley.
One traitor sits up; this action grabs one of the guard’s attention. The guard stares blankly at the traitor. The traitor takes a short look at the guard, looking for acceptance. The guard remains staring at the traitor while he gently stands up and stretches. The traitor looks around the age of 24; he is muscular, dark and an overall enigmatic appearance. His eyes are tired, tired from war, hunger and deprivation of any luxury as small as clear water. The traitor, knowing his nation is corrupt, took a stand. He is now regarded as a criminal and enemy.
The traitor’s mind is now preoccupied with disgust and hatred. He thinks of freedom, persecution and escape. The traitor’s mind becomes wild with ideas and even more hatred. His muscles tighten, adrenaline flows through his body like gushing rapids.
The traitor cannot stop, sweat flows down his face, his fists clench. The guard now has is back turned, waiting for the next soldier to take duty. The traitor charges the guard and grabs his weapon. The traitor then slams the guard’s rifle against his head. The guard falls silently. The traitor, a pacifist, is oddly satisfied. The traitor’s actions wake the other POW’s. They are inspired and run out of the tent like school children on the last day of school. The traitor recognizes their stupid maneuver, and stays back. The sound of machine gun fire and screams break out in the valley. The POW’s fall dead, and around ¾ of the guards are also dead. The traitor’s anger soars, killing innocent POW’s; his nation is now an enemy. Adrenaline overwhelms his body like a drug. The traitor runs out of the tent. He sees his dead brethren nothing will slow him down now.
The traitor, with rifle in hand, shoots of a shot at a shocked guard. The guard falls. The traitor spots another enemy to his right, he lunges himself towards another enemy soldier and runs the bayonet through the enemy’s chest. The traitor feels no sorrow or remorse; his nation is now an enemy. Silence overcomes the valley. Escape at last? The traitor now spots movement in the distance. The enemy’s leader appears out of the mist. He throws down his rifle and holds a single sharp knife. The traitor unsheathes a knife off of a guard’s body. They each run at each other. The leader gets the first strike on the traitor’s bicep. The traitor lets out a short scream, although he feels nothing for his pain is masked by adrenaline. The traitor parries the leader’s attack; past combat has trained the leader well. The traitor then hits the leader in the hamstring. The leader falls. He is weak and tired; old age becomes his Achilles’ heel. The traitor now shows mercy. He leaves the leader, stunned and paralyzed. Sparring his life will be the traitor’s only favor. The traitor walks away, bleeding and tired. The mist falls on his skin gently. The traitor is now free. He realizes his independence, but looking behind himself he sees dead bodies. The independent, free traitor falls to his knees. The traitor realizes what he is: a traitor. He takes one last breath and then throws his knife into his own heart. The traitor’s body falls. Rain hits his body like bullets. The leader then walks up to the traitor’s body and whispers “Дурачок. Независимость что-то быть заработанным, и вы бросили его все прочь.”
The Escape of a Traitor
The sound of yelling rings throughout a shallow valley. Barking like a dog, a man in a green camouflage uniform and a beret decorated with a simple red star, sound offs commands so demanding even a wild dog would obey. They carry assault rifles, dirty, grimy and loaded. Their rifles sway on slings, looking farther up reveals bayonets attached to the barrel that show hints of past combat. The man himself has his uniform arranged in a casual manor. His camouflage jacket is tucked in, but reveals mud on the armpits and sleeves. The pants of the man are partially torn as if he ran through knives. The only material on the man that seems to be in proper order is his beret. The beret could be mistaken as if it just was stitched and put together. The beret: a true sign of dignity and patriotism. The man himself is simple. He has a thin gray moustache that matches his hair and a broken face that could freeze one upon first look. He possesses a certain trait that commands, fears and most of all punishes.
The shallow valley, mist engulfed, houses a small camp. The camp too, is dirty and shows age. With only two buildings inside, several makeshift tents stand barely erect. One particularly large tent has a group of disciplined soldiers barring rifles. They patrol like a herd of tigers. Each regularly walks into the tent and leaves. Upon walking into the tent, the smells of hunger, hatred and despair come alive. Small sleeping bags are placed around the tent’s interior in a very organized fashion. Each has a small table in which a toothbrush, a Bible and a pen are sitting atop. Skinny, tired men lay in the sleeping bags like maggots in a dead animal corpse. Each man is dressed the same, in a pair of worn khaki’s and a gray tattered tee shirt. Traitors and prisoners of war (POW), trapped in a cold, death filled valley.
One traitor sits up; this action grabs one of the guard’s attention. The guard stares blankly at the traitor. The traitor takes a short look at the guard, looking for acceptance. The guard remains staring at the traitor while he gently stands up and stretches. The traitor looks around the age of 24; he is muscular, dark and an overall enigmatic appearance. His eyes are tired, tired from war, hunger and deprivation of any luxury as small as clear water. The traitor, knowing his nation is corrupt, took a stand. He is now regarded as a criminal and enemy.
The traitor’s mind is now preoccupied with disgust and hatred. He thinks of freedom, persecution and escape. The traitor’s mind becomes wild with ideas and even more hatred. His muscles tighten, adrenaline flows through his body like gushing rapids.
The traitor cannot stop, sweat flows down his face, his fists clench. The guard now has is back turned, waiting for the next soldier to take duty. The traitor charges the guard and grabs his weapon. The traitor then slams the guard’s rifle against his head. The guard falls silently. The traitor, a pacifist, is oddly satisfied. The traitor’s actions wake the other POW’s. They are inspired and run out of the tent like school children on the last day of school. The traitor recognizes their stupid maneuver, and stays back. The sound of machine gun fire and screams break out in the valley. The POW’s fall dead, and around ¾ of the guards are also dead. The traitor’s anger soars, killing innocent POW’s; his nation is now an enemy. Adrenaline overwhelms his body like a drug. The traitor runs out of the tent. He sees his dead brethren nothing will slow him down now.
The traitor, with rifle in hand, shoots of a shot at a shocked guard. The guard falls. The traitor spots another enemy to his right, he lunges himself towards another enemy soldier and runs the bayonet through the enemy’s chest. The traitor feels no sorrow or remorse; his nation is now an enemy. Silence overcomes the valley. Escape at last? The traitor now spots movement in the distance. The enemy’s leader appears out of the mist. He throws down his rifle and holds a single sharp knife. The traitor unsheathes a knife off of a guard’s body. They each run at each other. The leader gets the first strike on the traitor’s bicep. The traitor lets out a short scream, although he feels nothing for his pain is masked by adrenaline. The traitor parries the leader’s attack; past combat has trained the leader well. The traitor then hits the leader in the hamstring. The leader falls. He is weak and tired; old age becomes his Achilles’ heel. The traitor now shows mercy. He leaves the leader, stunned and paralyzed. Sparring his life will be the traitor’s only favor. The traitor walks away, bleeding and tired. The mist falls on his skin gently. The traitor is now free. He realizes his independence, but looking behind himself he sees dead bodies. The independent, free traitor falls to his knees. The traitor realizes what he is: a traitor. He takes one last breath and then throws his knife into his own heart. The traitor’s body falls. Rain hits his body like bullets. The leader then walks up to the traitor’s body and whispers “Дурачок. Независимость что-то быть заработанным, и вы бросили его все прочь.”
