Last Letter Home

• Katana Gleeson, Grade 9
• Short Story
• 2015

He could see it all, her smile, her elegant beauty. The way she laughed, her soft skin, although he could not feel her. Oh how he longed to hold her once more, to tell her ‘I love you’ once again.
BOOM. The sound of the explosion woke him from his sleep. All around him soldiers hurried to get into position. The Germans were gaining on them and they had to move quickly. But not him. No, he had to write a letter to the woman he loved. He had to tell her that he dreamt of her and that it was the first dream that he had had in months. He had to tell her how much he loved her and missed her and longed for her touch. He had to let her know that the officials thought that it would all be over soon and that England would have victory and he could come home to his darling bride. He could hear shouts in the distance, the sound of men falling, but all he could think about was writing the letter.
He quickly signed it off, then carefully folded it and placed it in his breast pocket. He shifted his focus to the scene around him. Men were lying dead on the ground above the trenches. The General was shouting orders down the other end of the line though he couldn’t hear over the sound of the guns and explosives. He waited for an order with his fellow officers. He was afraid but the thought of her gave him courage. He was doing this for her, to protect her and their future together. Before he came here he never could have imagined the sights of war, if he tried to describe them to someone he would never do it justice. But if seeing them meant that he was protecting her, he would never turn back.
Orders were been giving and men were running out of the trenches and onto the battlefield. He could hear the shouts and cries of both English and German men, he did not know whose where greater but he silently prayed that there were more coming from the latter. The General was coming closer to where he was crouched, he would be sent up soon into the midst of battle. He would see her again, he knew it. The order finally came and out of the trench he ran, aim, shoot, aim, shoot. All he could see were the soldiers falling from the bullets of his gun. BANG, a shot was fired and suddenly his attention shifted from the German soldiers and onto the shot that was fired. He fell to the ground, gasping. There was a bullet next to his heart, right through the middle of his breast pocket. Blood was flooding out onto his uniform. But he didn’t notice this detail, all he could see was her, her smile, her elegant beauty. The way she laughed, her soft skin. And washed away by blood was the writing of the letter that would never make it home.