Bassim
VIP Member
- Joined
- Mar 1, 2008
- Member Type
- Student or Learner
- Native Language
- Bosnian
- Home Country
- Bosnia Herzegovina
- Current Location
- Sweden
Please, would you take a look at the first part of my short story, Two Women, and correct my mistakes.
I sat on an old weather-beaten tree stump smoking and pondering about the meaning of life. Before the war started I never smoked, nor did I ask myself any existential questions. I never thought about death, suffering or human evil. Maybe I was naive believing that the majority of people were decent and virtuous. Maybe my parents did not prepare me for the harsh world outside in which human beings can behave worse than animals if only they get a chance. Or, maybe I should be grateful that the war broke out in my lifetime, so that I could see all sides of the human character. Anyway, I was able only to pose questions, which nobody could answer, not even the brightest minds of humankind. My eyes wandered to the orchard and my soldiers. If it were not for this bloody conflict, the scene could be idyllic, with dozens of plum trees loaded with ripe plums, then apples, pears and other fruit plants, which seemed to thrive at the time when people kill each other. The scents of flowers lingered in the air, while birds and insects twittered and buzzed all the time. There was also an old draw-well with a round stone wall, wooden wheel and wood shingles on the roof. Before the war, this could have been a perfect photograph for the promotion of the countryside.
The frontline was a few kilometres away, and that meant that we all could take it easy. After years of fierce, bloody battles, this time felt almost like a holiday. Only occasionally one could hear the distant thud of artillery fire. But that would last just for a few minutes, after which the birds would come to the stage again to compete in their everlasting song competition. Nevertheless, we were all waiting for something to happen. We were exhausted, both mentally and physically, and we wanted this madness to end as soon as possible. When the first skirmishes began, people believed that they would end after a few days and that common sense would prevail, but days turned into weeks, weeks into months and months into years. But, still, the end was not in sight. The politicians of the involved nations did not want to make any concession, while the great powers were not interested in stopping slaughter and killing. Their plan was probably to let the warring people exterminate each other until they become so worn out, hungry and desperate that they would accept any plan for peace of the international community. But until that day, suffering would continue on both sides, and lists of fallen soldiers and civilians becoming longer.
To be continued
I sat on an old weather-beaten tree stump smoking and pondering about the meaning of life. Before the war started I never smoked, nor did I ask myself any existential questions. I never thought about death, suffering or human evil. Maybe I was naive believing that the majority of people were decent and virtuous. Maybe my parents did not prepare me for the harsh world outside in which human beings can behave worse than animals if only they get a chance. Or, maybe I should be grateful that the war broke out in my lifetime, so that I could see all sides of the human character. Anyway, I was able only to pose questions, which nobody could answer, not even the brightest minds of humankind. My eyes wandered to the orchard and my soldiers. If it were not for this bloody conflict, the scene could be idyllic, with dozens of plum trees loaded with ripe plums, then apples, pears and other fruit plants, which seemed to thrive at the time when people kill each other. The scents of flowers lingered in the air, while birds and insects twittered and buzzed all the time. There was also an old draw-well with a round stone wall, wooden wheel and wood shingles on the roof. Before the war, this could have been a perfect photograph for the promotion of the countryside.
The frontline was a few kilometres away, and that meant that we all could take it easy. After years of fierce, bloody battles, this time felt almost like a holiday. Only occasionally one could hear the distant thud of artillery fire. But that would last just for a few minutes, after which the birds would come to the stage again to compete in their everlasting song competition. Nevertheless, we were all waiting for something to happen. We were exhausted, both mentally and physically, and we wanted this madness to end as soon as possible. When the first skirmishes began, people believed that they would end after a few days and that common sense would prevail, but days turned into weeks, weeks into months and months into years. But, still, the end was not in sight. The politicians of the involved nations did not want to make any concession, while the great powers were not interested in stopping slaughter and killing. Their plan was probably to let the warring people exterminate each other until they become so worn out, hungry and desperate that they would accept any plan for peace of the international community. But until that day, suffering would continue on both sides, and lists of fallen soldiers and civilians becoming longer.
To be continued