You draw a shaky breath. It stings at the back of your throat and makes you shiver.
In, out, in, out, in, out.
Your little mantra.
You think of your brother back home – with his dark brown eyes and his blond hair – and your little sister – flaming red that no one can figure out where from – and your mother and your father. And your gut twists.
In, out, in, out, in, out.
The friends you have made click their guns into place, their bodies tense and rigid. You follow suit, your family still fresh in your mind. You glance over at John, your comrade in this dark time, and he smiles at you, but it looks forced and bitter.
You smile back shakily and turn back to the outer walls of the trenches, and you can feel dried blood against your arms, and you know that most of it isn't yours.
In, out, in, out, in, out.
It's silent – much more so than you've ever heard it. It's like you can hear a pin drop. You glance sideways and see many of the men in your rank shaking and wiping sweat from their brows.
Just a minute now, any minute now, you think to yourself. You swear you hear the snapping of a branch, and your eyes fly open, but another little voice whispers in your head 'it's just your imagination.'
You prepare your gun and try to slow your beating hard by breathing in slowly and deeply.
In…out…in…out…in…out.
And then, there's a shift in the air. You sense it because suddenly everyone locks up and now it's like you can hear your blood rushing in your ears and your heartbeat slamming under your skin like a rhythmic, beating drum.
You lift yourself up so that you're just peaking over the edge of the trenches, and you look out, eyes wide. You squeeze the trigger of the gun because you see something move. There's a whistle to your left – the signal – and everyone hoists themselves up to prepare.
1…2…3…Go.
It's like the sky has split open.
There's a sharp, stinging, reverberating pain in your abdomen, and you scream out, drop your gun, and your hands fly to your stomach. When you pull away your left hand, you see that it's stained with blood. You blink up with tears in your eyes because the realization has finally hit you.
It's over.
You collapse backwards and look up at the dark, murky sky once more – you hear shouts and screams and cries and people are shouting your name – but it's like you're not even there anymore. You're far, far away. Floating away.
Your breath quickens, and then stills. Your eyelids flutter closed, your chest stills, and you don't move again.
Inoutinoutinoutinout in, out, in, out, in…out…in…out…
Your time is up. The game is over.
You lose.
a/n: this was originally written for an english assignment, but i'm actually quite proud of it. there are people out there who are fighting and risking their lives for us, and we hardly acknowledge that, so i thought this might be a nice tribute to them
no white horse for me
