peter.alexi
New member
- Joined
- Mar 25, 2016
- Member Type
- Student or Learner
- Native Language
- English
- Home Country
- Australia
- Current Location
- Australia
Hello. I have to write a short creative piece on the topic of belonging and was hoping someone could tell me if what I have is okay or how I could improve it. Thank you 
[FONT="]Men screeched as a storm of missiles rained through the sky. I had seen this all before. Too many times for me to remember, it really wasn’t my job to remember. Humans never learned. They were proud, foolish, volatile creatures. And at what price? I would never understand the things people valued over life. They had far more to lose than they ever had to gain. The outcome is always the same of course, no one has ever won war and no one ever will. Well, except for me. [/FONT]
[FONT="]I have always been feared and loathed, but I am a necessary part of life. It’s only natural for everyone to die. It doesn’t matter how, when or where, I’m not particular on details. I’m inevitable. [/FONT]
[FONT="]I was waiting on one last soul, a young man, by the name of James Sinclair. It was difficult to find him through the mass of panicked soldiers. I had met with his brother not too long ago under similar circumstances. I remember everyone I meet. James was a newlywed and a father-to-be. His letter would have been here in a couple of days with the news. [/FONT]
[FONT="]The soldiers were disheartened and worn out, surely they sensed me. Some had even longed for me. There was silence. It had seemed as though, for a moment, it was all over. But I knew better. A single gunshot shattered the air, a thunderous roar. And again I found myself confounded by another of life’s enigmas. I saw him. James Sinclair. His face was caked with grime, except for the two clean streaks running down his sunken cheeks. [/FONT][FONT="]Molten-red blood spread across his chest as he pushed his comrade out of the lethal bullet’s path. He was mine before he even hit the ground. [/FONT]
[FONT="]I have never understood how humans are capable of the worse crimes on Earth, yet willing to save the life of another, at the price of their own.[/FONT]
[FONT="] His soul was light; his sacrifice was a choice he had made willingly. I looked into his memories and saw endless green paddocks, several brothers and sisters, I saw him riding a horse and a beautiful woman walk down the aisle. She was his final thought. I saw his hopes and dreams; to one day be a father, return from war and grow old surrounded by family. He was a simple farmer. I wanted to ask him, why? Was it out of guilt? Hope? Or was it just plain instinct? But talking isn’t part of my job either. [/FONT]
[FONT="]It was time to leave; I was on a very tight schedule. I turned my back to the destruction, not for the last time. I walked away from the mocking moans of the wounded that had escaped me for now. Yes, I would definitely be back.[/FONT]
[FONT="]I will never understand humans, but then again who am I to judge? This world is for the living, not the dead.[/FONT]
[FONT="]Men screeched as a storm of missiles rained through the sky. I had seen this all before. Too many times for me to remember, it really wasn’t my job to remember. Humans never learned. They were proud, foolish, volatile creatures. And at what price? I would never understand the things people valued over life. They had far more to lose than they ever had to gain. The outcome is always the same of course, no one has ever won war and no one ever will. Well, except for me. [/FONT]
[FONT="]I have always been feared and loathed, but I am a necessary part of life. It’s only natural for everyone to die. It doesn’t matter how, when or where, I’m not particular on details. I’m inevitable. [/FONT]
[FONT="]I was waiting on one last soul, a young man, by the name of James Sinclair. It was difficult to find him through the mass of panicked soldiers. I had met with his brother not too long ago under similar circumstances. I remember everyone I meet. James was a newlywed and a father-to-be. His letter would have been here in a couple of days with the news. [/FONT]
[FONT="]The soldiers were disheartened and worn out, surely they sensed me. Some had even longed for me. There was silence. It had seemed as though, for a moment, it was all over. But I knew better. A single gunshot shattered the air, a thunderous roar. And again I found myself confounded by another of life’s enigmas. I saw him. James Sinclair. His face was caked with grime, except for the two clean streaks running down his sunken cheeks. [/FONT][FONT="]Molten-red blood spread across his chest as he pushed his comrade out of the lethal bullet’s path. He was mine before he even hit the ground. [/FONT]
[FONT="]I have never understood how humans are capable of the worse crimes on Earth, yet willing to save the life of another, at the price of their own.[/FONT]
[FONT="] His soul was light; his sacrifice was a choice he had made willingly. I looked into his memories and saw endless green paddocks, several brothers and sisters, I saw him riding a horse and a beautiful woman walk down the aisle. She was his final thought. I saw his hopes and dreams; to one day be a father, return from war and grow old surrounded by family. He was a simple farmer. I wanted to ask him, why? Was it out of guilt? Hope? Or was it just plain instinct? But talking isn’t part of my job either. [/FONT]
[FONT="]It was time to leave; I was on a very tight schedule. I turned my back to the destruction, not for the last time. I walked away from the mocking moans of the wounded that had escaped me for now. Yes, I would definitely be back.[/FONT]
[FONT="]I will never understand humans, but then again who am I to judge? This world is for the living, not the dead.[/FONT]
