War With No Winners
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Sam Aubin, Grade 7
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Short Story
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2015
Some mornings I wake up and for a moment, I am normal. For a moment, I am living my life like it is meant to be lived. I do normal things. I make myself a cup of tea. I read the newspaper. I let the dog outside to go to the toilet.
Then something hits me like a clap of thunder in the distance. Loud and unexpected my world starts crashing down. It all comes flooding back to me like a raging river. There is no escape. There is no hiding from this thing that is my life. The life that was a new lottery ticket every day.
We have just returned from Afghanistan, from the battlefield of a war that has no winners.
I cannot forget the stench of blood.
I cannot forget the screams of fear.
I will not forget the sound of death, forever ringing in my ears. The fear that is ubiquitous amongst us all.
Fear, fighting, fury, forever in my mind. I close my eyes and my memory takes me back to this place I call hell.
It is cold, it is morning and we are all wearisome. We can hear the pounding sound of machine guns firing in the distance. We soldiers scurry frantically like ants before a rainstorm. I can hear civilian’s screeeaming nearby. They are almost upon us.
This unexpected attack has taken us by surprise. We are neither ready, nor prepared for this battle but know that it is inevitable. A bomb collides into the building next to us as if to remind us that this is real. I am thrown off my feet and for a moment think it may be best if I close my eyes and give up.
Another round of machine gun fire ricochets off my shoulder and snaps me back to reality. I manage to get to my feet. I notice then that my best friend is a casualty of this war that I have come to hate so much. This war that has no winners.