Killed In Action

• Jenny Tang , Grade 8C
• Short Story
• 2014

When the last leaves fall and first snow lies on the ground, the lonely figure knows it was time to...

The majestic fireball cast an orange haze over the horizon. Its vivid luminosity loomed over the silent stretch of blue like a layer of shimmering glitter. The comforting warmth of the crimson rays emanated, attempting to melt the surface of drifted new snow that covered the bay. The imposing trees marching along the houses were moaning and groaning, creaking under the weight of the fallen snow that rested naively on their shoulders.

Delicate footprints stamped towards the sea of rubbing bodies waiting anxiously for the arrival of the grand vessel. The cheeping of birds overhead provided her with a soothing lullaby, synchronizing harmoniously with the quiet chirping of crickets in the background.

As the ship released a stream of tiresome faces, she searched vigorously for those familiar, disheveled, golden locks. Waves of arms and heads were lunging and crashing repeatedly upon her fragile figure.

As the churning legs and feet dispersed, a stern outline approached,his unflinching eyes glared accusingly at her, reflecting her traumatized expression. "George Williams, killed in actions," he stated impassively and turned away.

-------------------------------------
The illustration of blizzards of malicious arrows soaring regally through the benighted sky, swirling and sizzling. Mercury red liquid spurting from gaping wounds, fireworks of explosions cascading down that would have muted his cries of agony. His body lying in the midst of other remains, adorning the rustic plains.
--------------------------------------

Hanging clouds surrounded the dying fighter like an assembly of spectators as it bade farewell. The translucent light cast upon the waters was overpowered by the deep blue effect. The iridescent warrior surrendered into the horizon, taking the calm tranquility of the atmosphere. Leaving an eerie darkness that spanned endlessly, enunciating her inconsolable grief. Even then she stared aimlessly into the grey sea as it grasped to the silent shores with its countless hands. Waiting, waiting, waiting...

He promised, he promised he would come back from war when winter comes.