Hi guys. I know I haven't been on in a long time. I'm doing my best though. I'm getting back into the swing of things with school, band, and soccer though, so that's good. I wrote this for a prompt in English class. Our teacher gave us two pictures. One of a grave yard and the other of a battle field. This is what happened. Sorry it's a weird second person. It's suppose to be a Revolutionary War-ish story...


The Memory

You stand sadly before the fresh grave. The last battle had been brutal and claimed the life of your best friend and the lives of many others.

As you stare down, you think back to the final moments you had shared with the man now six feet under.

*flashback*

Gun shots sounded everywhere. The smoke was so think you could barely see who was beside you, let allown before you. The sent of blood had mixed with that of gun powder and it was thick in the air around you. Screams came from every direction, some in pain some in fear.

Suddenly, something had smashed into you, dropping you flat onto your back.

A red coat! Before you could act, the man aimed his gun into your face. You stared back defiantly.

A second before he could pull the trigger, another shot sounded and the man fell of of you, dead.

"Alfred! Are you alright?" A different man came towards you. It was your friend, John.

He helped you to your feet then looked you over for wounds. You had been friends with this man for many years, but he still had no idea of who you where.

"I'm fine John. You got him before he could hurt me," you reassured him.

John looked relieved and smiled grimly.

"Good. But I see you lost your gun. Go back until you can get another," he demanded.

You knew you would be fine yet you decide to humor him. You sighed but start back anyway. You took only a few steps before John screamed at you to get down.

Again, something slammed into your back. It was John. You spun around and saw he was bleeding horribly from the bullet wound in his stomach. You hadn't even heard the gun fire.

"John!" you yelled, catching him as he fell. It was to late for him, and you knew it. His breathing was weak and labored. His mouth moved as he tried to speak yet no words make it beyond his lips.

You watched helplessly as your best friend died. You screamed and hugged the body close to you, not caring about the blood that now coated your arms, hands and clothes.

*end flashback*

The memory fades and you discover that your face has become wet with tears.

With a new determination, you dry your eyes and turn away from the grave and start back to the camp.

All doubts that you might have had are gone now. Left with John. Whether Arthur likes it or not, you will be free. Or you will give your life trying.