Before you say anything, let me say this; I don't know where this came from or why the hell I decided to make it so depressing. I read this poem in history and thought "hmm, I could make a really interesting story/one shot!"
Sorry for not updating The Dark Side of The Moon yet, I'm kinda taking a well needed break from it right now.
Plus, end of term exams are a bitch.
Enjoy!
Dulce et Decorum est
"Gas! Gas! Quick, boys!"
I'll never forget those four words. Fifteen short letters with a life changing consequence. Gas was supposed to make your cars run, to make your lanterns work. Gas didn't kill people, or at least, that's what I thought.
Preparing for a war seemed easy before we knew what we were up against. Who knew that new technology would be so horrible? Wasn't it made to help people?
My friends and I stayed in the trenches. It was practically our home. We slept, ate, and survived inside our small dirt lifeline in knee deep water. People had nasty cases of trench foot, but that didn't get to us. It was either risk sickness behind our man made walls or risk death by man made bullets above the ground in no mans land.
I can still remember that day. It's images constantly flash behind my eyelids, reminding me to never forget, no matter how painful.
I woke up to a rat nipping at my ear. It scurried away as I swatted at it, crawling out of my small hole. I couldn't wait to go home. The war was almost over, or so they kept telling me. We've been here for four years, fighting for our lives and the well-being of the world. We were heros in the making.
"Mornin', James," one of my friends Logan Mitchell said, leaning against the dirt barrier built to protect us.
I'll never forget his smile. His eyes glowed whenever he did. He was our medic, and my best friend. I still remember how his helmet sat crooked on his head, bright red medics cross marking the front.
I smiled back, leaning next to him on the wall. "How'd you sleep, Logan?"
He snorted. "How do we ever sleep?"
My smile grew. "You have no idea what I'd do for a proper bed right now,"
He looked up at me. "I'm pretty sure everyone here knows what you'd do for a proper bed,"
We laughed together, continuing with our routine morning talks.
A blonde covered head emerged from a hole carved into the trench. I reached out, ruffling his hair. He shoved my arm away, laughing. "Hey guys,"
We laughed along with him as he yawned. "Hey, Kendall,"
Kendall Knight was a war hero. He was a natural born leader, having skills that you just couldn't teach in school. His green eyes could pierce into your soul. Due to his fearless demeanor and strong leadership abilities, he was being promoted to squad leader in four days. Four.
"You guys hungry?" The last one of my friends, Carlos Garcia, said as he stumbled towards us.
Carlos was the kind of guy you always kept around you. The friend everyone wanted to have. He could make you laugh on the worst day of your life. He acted like he was five, enjoying everything this horrible life had to offer. Serious situations stripped him of his fun loving personality, his innocence. I hated the war because of it. We were all still just kids. Logan and I, 21. Kendall and Carlos, 20.
The three of us watched as he collapsed next to us. He wasn't hurt or anything, just drunk with fatigue. He propped himself against the wall with the rest of us.
"What do you think, Garcia?" Kendall answered, stomach growling.
Carlos smirked. "We could always eat Logan,"
Logan gasped, clearly offended. "You need me! Who'd be there to fix your boo boos?" He said with a baby voice, pinching Carlos's cheek.
He hit his hand away, turning to me. "How bout James? He doesn't do anything important,"
I scoffed, crossing my arms. "Glad to know that you think I'm expendable,"
We all laughed together.
That moment was so nice. I remember wishing I could wake up like this every day. Back in the states, we could all be friendly neighbors who chat on their porches. You can't break the bond of soldiers. We were more than that, we were brothers.
I wish it didn't end.
"Gas! Gas! Quick, boys!"
I sat in shock. My brain stopped. Gas? How? I reached down for my mask. Where was my mask? My eyes darted around. Did no one have their masks?
Logan lunged forward, pulling a gas mask over my face. My eyes widened in horror. It was his.
"Logan!"
Suddenly, they were yelling out and stumbling like men in fire. Through the misty panes of my gas mask, I saw them drowning, clutching at their throats and screaming.
I reached for the mask attached to my face. Surely if they were dying, I would too.
Logan clutched the mask, holding it against my face as he sobbed.
"No!"
Carlos was screaming. Kendall was screaming. Logan sat quietly, eyes locked with mine. He was twitching, dying. His teeth sunk into his lips to stop the screams from escaping. They were all dying.
Some of our men were running down the trenches, pulling a wagon of maskless soldiers. Their bodies shook with convulsions. A sob escaped my lips. Why?
Carlos was thrown onto the wooden cart, added to the small pile forming. The dragged Kendall up next. I sat there in shock, unable to move. They were dying. Everyone was dying.
They reached for Logan.
"No!" I screamed out, clutching to him like a small child. He was all I had left. Kendall and Carlos were carted away. I couldn't leave Logan alone.
"James, he's dying. Let him go," one of them said calmly. I didn't care enough to pay attention to who it was.
"No! Logan!" I sobbed out, laying my head onto his chest. Somehow, I heard his heart beat. It was irregular, switching from heavy pounding to a soft patter.
My mask was fogged. I couldn't see. I didn't care though, Logan was dying. Kendall was dying. Carlos was dying.
Logan's eyes were forcibly closed. Tears streaked his face. His body twitched in ways not humanly possible.
He was in so much pain.
I looked down next to me, barely making out shapes out of the fog inside my mask. I saw what i was looking for and grabbed it, reassuringly petting Logan's hair with my other hand.
"Are...are you sure?" Another guy asked from above me. I nodded, not looking away from Logan's face. So much pain. So much.
His body lurched forward. Oh God oh God oh God.
"Logan," I whispered, still stroking his hair. He cracked a blood shot eye, meeting mine for a split second.
"You saved me, now its my turn,"
There was a loud bang. I flinched, still sobbing. Logan went limp.
I had killed my best friend.
I blinked, coming back to my senses. I was staring in a mirror, gray hair dotting the top of my scalp. I glanced down at the small calendar next to my dresser. January 26, 1968.
My friends died fifty years ago at the ages of 20 and 21. I was 71. How fair was that?
"Good morning, James," a voice called from my foyer. I walked around the corner to see an older woman standing there, smiling. "Hello, Katie,"
Katie Knight was Kendall's younger sister. After I got back from the war, I went to find her. Kendall always talked about her, how sweet she was. He said that when he got home, he would never leave her side. Family was so important to him.
I could never take his place, but I filled the void left by his absence.
I told Katie stories about how brave Kendall was in the war, how he saves lives. I told her about Carlos, and how he was Kendall's best friend. Most of all, I told her about Logan.
After all these years, I never forgot what he did for me. He sacrificed himself to save me. What did I have going for me? Kendall had a family. Carlos had a family. I joined the war because I had no one. Yet, he saved me. The expendable one.
Katie embraced me. "It's nice to see you again, big brother,"
I smirked. "I'm not your brother, little sister,"
She pulled back, holding me at arms distance. "You are my big brother. Not my real one, but your're the next best thing,"
I smiled, walking with her into the kitchen. "It's nice to have someone to call family,"
We talked for a few hours, catching up on whats been going on in our lives. Like usual, my stories were bland and boring. My life was never spectacular after the war. I tended to keep to myself. I never married or had kids. I missed my friends too much.
"This was really great, James," Katie said, pulling my into a hug. "We'll do it again next month, okay?"
I smiled. "Of co-" I coughed loudly, clutching my chest. Katie looked worried. "James, are you okay?"
A wave of calm settled over me. Katie's eyes widened as she screamed. She ran over to my phone, frantically dialing.
"James,"
I spun around, searching for the voice. I knew that voice. It haunted me every night.
"James,"
I looked around, still unable to find the source. Katie hung up the phone, walking back over to me slowly. She was staring at the ground by my feet. I looked down.
It was my body.
"Tell...tell them I say hello," Katie said, stroking my hand. Or, the hand of my body.
I looked down at myself, noticing that I was wearing my old war clothes. My skin was younger. I had long, brown hair. I was 21 again.
"James,"
I turned to face a light that wasn't there before. Three figures stood in it. One stepped forward. Logan.
"James, welcome home,"
Oh. My. God. I cried the entire time I wrote this! Sorry for the depressing story...I...I...ugh.
Stupid history class.
Tainting my mind with sad poems about death.
The inspiration of this story was a poem(look above...) that I had to read for history class. About World War I. Dulce et Decorum est by Wilfred Owen. If you read it, you'll see what I got out of this.
At the end he says "Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori" which means "It is sweet and honorable to die for ones country", which I thought was inspirational. Which...was the inspiration for my story:P
I know the ending kinda sucked...I mean..."Hey, dead guy! Tell 'em I say hey!"...yeah...
It's 4:00 in the morning! Sweet...especially cuz I have to wake up in 2 hours...
I would love it if you reviewed! So...you should:)
Love!
