Oceans Red

• Holly Hallam, Grade 8
• Short Story
• 2018

The Ocean glistened as the moons reflection bounce of it sending a rippling glow through the chilly night air. My eyes swung constantly from side to side and I listened to the ever growing sound of gunfire as it grew louder, nerves ripped through my stomach and I shifted for the hundredth time. Whispers floated through the air and were rewarded with a whack over the head from a Batten, this was not the place for idle chitchat. We were miles from the shore and the slightest noise could attract unnecessary attention from the enemy, even as I thought of the words the gunfire became louder and now it was directed at us. Quickly everyone ducks using the barricades we created out of crude pieces of wood and their guns, using as much momentum as possible I scramble up and jump into the water not knowing what was underneath me.
My legs touch something and I splash away only to realise that I was touching the sandy shore line, getting up from the water I ran. Slowly at first and then I speed up seeing the men in my unit go down by the constant gunfire, I slammed into something and immediately thought of a bullet hitting me but this was a person. Dragging us both to one of the rocks I shielded him from the worst of the rock and rubble, starring at his back I reached out and turned him over.
My throat constricted and I choked, tears ran down my face mixing with the blood. A scream rang out over the battle field full of anguish and I realised that it was mine. The body was my best friend Tommy, he was only 16 not wanting to wait for his next two birthdays. He used to play hide and seek on our street, pretending he couldn't see the little kids hiding behind the bushes.
My best friend was murdered by a person he couldn't even see, standing up I didn't care about the bullets. As I stood I looked out at the water and frowned something seemed off about the slow movement and I realise that the water was stained red from all of the people who hadn't survived.
Turning my back to the mournful sight I began to run up the hill and face the unknown danger that lurked behind those wooden and concrete barricades, bringing my gun up I slammed into the wood and looked up into the face of a machine gun.