The Rise Of The White Witch Narnia
The sulking figure with his chin leaning down onto his chest, his back resting on a wall of mud took shallow breaths. His chest raised then sunk as each breath cause more pain. His hair which once held a brown sheen was mud black with streaks of blood, his eyes stayed closed tightly as if to shield himself from the chaos around him. His ears rang as blood leaked from them down his cheek outlining his jaw with crimson. Around him the world was in fire, bodies lay in mud, holes lay torn in the earth from bullets and shrapnel. The land which once was called France seemed little more the bloody holes in the once splendid earth. His eyes opened barely as light caught his eyes off guard as he raised him head and looked around him. Using his arm to shield his eyes from the light from the sun he let a groan of pain escape his lips along with a trace of blood pooling in his mouth which over filled his bottom lip and spilled over and down his chin. His eyes fell down to his side and pressed his hand over the large torn wound created by a bullet which passed through his rib cage.
"Well bloody hell first day in France and iv already got a present from the Hun's." He cracked a smile and started to laugh which turned into a cough which sent blood spewing out of his mouth onto the dirt at his feet, painting his muddy boot's slightly crimson.
He looked around the trench and saw bodies sprawled all over the mud. Bullets lay in the mud faces looked up at the sky with eyes of glass but out of ever human in the trench as far as he could see he was the only one breathing. His eyes fell to the mud as tears filled his eyes. This is what he had signed up for after all. Gripping his side he leaned on the wall of the trench and forced himself onto his feet and fell to his knee as a moan of pain passed through his lips and more blood leaked from his wounds. His lip shook as he forced himself to stand on his feet his free hand holding onto the wall to keep him standing as he looked around for a hole to get to shelter as his hearing started to return but that moment it returned he wished with all his soul for the ringing to return because now he could hear it all. The screaming the crying the bullets flying.
Losing his grip on the wall he fell to his knees and his face hitting on the ground leaving a large gash above his left eye. Then the sound of a clear crisp bell ringing and the sound of boots hitting the ground running. His face raised as the truth hit him full force. The attacked had failed not only did they not capture the trench, they where running away leaving him in the trench. He stopped crawling at that moment and rolled over onto his back and felt the mixture of blood and tears run down his face. He was going to die not in Britain defending his home, his parents and his queen but instead he would die in a field in franc at the age of 17. He closed his eyes ready to embrace the darkness but instead he was met with a blinding light but his eyes would not open. The face of a lion appeared suddenly its mane look like a shining golden glow. Its mouth opened and it seemed to blow on his face and his eyes shot opened as the ground around him as he suddenly fell through the earth into a golden light below him.
"Bloody he-" was the only thing that escaped his lips as his body disappeared into the light.