this is a part of a story i wrote not the best but i though i'd share
Survival Story
The regular night sky is no longer black it's turned red, blood red. The constant sounds in the air are sounds of pain and the mounting fear of defeat is ever present, as the last remaining survivors huddle together. Their bruised ribs pushed against the crumbling walls of a once great proud city. As their pale lips try to quench desperately the last remaining drops of clean water, scavenging like rats for only discarded crumbs. Knowing this fading lifeline will keep them alive another day or a least a few hours.
The only contact remaining with the resistance strongholds areas outside the cities crumbling walls us a broken radio crackling, bringing pain destroying the remaining hope with every pain ridden word. As news of an advancing enemy filters through the cheap plastic to the ears of the scared and broken survivors. Still huddling as close as possible in an attempt to trap escaping heat, as sweat mixes with tears running down their drained faces. As the drops hit the sinking mud like concrete, they don't even flinch. Their bodies frozen like statues not with cold but with fear and their hearts heavy with an urge for revenge. To the side a combating business woman hugs her famished baby close to her chest, her face twisting with agony to ignore the pain from her almost broken ribs. The baby stirs hearing the creaking pipe above and looks straight into her tearful eyes for signs of hope to survive the worsening circumstances.
Above them the rarely seen sun dawns brining hope throughout the unstable shelter but that's not all there is a something else, a shadow of a man in the doorway. His whole body is stained with dry bloods, water sweat and tears. He carries a bulging kit bag dragging his weak back and shoulders in the dirt. Lodged in his leather belt is a polished unused fully loaded pistol, and in his bandaged blistered red raw hand a wreaked torch. Which he can't risk dropping due to risk of shards of glass splintering and causing him more damage. He stares ahead as tears run down his open wounds and scars on his face causing more pain and halting him open his mouth the scream as he bit more into his lips to stop screams escaping. The stands frozen in that uniform now worn in shame, stripped of pride and victory replaced by pain and defeat. The flags fading on his shoulder only counts for death of devotion and patriotism and the defeat of the Innocent to the wolf like humans. His mission to kill but he can't, his heart pure not stone and his conscience will soon set in to make up his mind. He slips his frozen bloody heart away from the sweat ridden trigger back to his throbbing slide burnt from mines and clawed from barbed wire still stuck in the sides of his thighs. As the pain hits an inhumane level he removes his kitbag and twists to face the cowering humans.
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