Imperfections

The brown soggy snow crunched into James’ tread. As he ran to the nearest shelter he could fell the freezing wind hit his face and curve around to enter his ears. The day was almost over when James sat down to rest. Around him the ground was stained with red blood. An unclean trespasser on the white blanket. He could not feel his hands as so for the last few days, the last happy image he remembered was of his wife curled up in his bed awaiting a normal day but the day was as far from normal for James.

 

Only when he saw the first man go down did he realise what a predicament he was in, not fighting for his country but for his life. Could the war be a means to an end, like the papers say or is this another of many that will be crippling families through outBritain. Taking time to check his gun’s magazine, his thought could not help but go back to his family.

“If only they knew, if only they knew what was going through.” He grunted. The words sounded harsh but he could only feel punished for what he did to them. With his back up against the frost bitten boulder his thought drifted. His eyes glazed over and he found a place of peace knowing that his family was safe, his thoughts were tediously interrupted by the melodious fighting that was taken place just in front of him.

 

James searched the area, scanning for hope in a bleak field that cast a shadow of death in every corner. James saw one single man detach from a group only to be shot down. One bullet to the thigh, the next into the shoulder and as he was going down the third bullet pieced his skull leaving a defined mark resembling downfall ofBritain society since the war began. James began to get up; eyes swelling with emotion, heart reaching out to stop him but it was no good. Facing a wall of enemy soldiers that lined their targets on James, he shot repetitively until the magazine reached the last bullet. In the open, he felt exposed and bewildered; his emotions drove him into stupidities that would result in death.

 

The morning James had to leave, it was all organised and his family would not know that he was going to war; his wife said that if he went he could never return, this was the only way. His twin Jake took his place as father of his own house. The two were inseparable.

“Thankyou” was all that could be said by James as he walked out the door.

“I’m not doing it for you,” Was jakes reply “I’m doing it for my country.”

With that the door closed and James stepped out into the White blanket of snow.   

 

One, two, three bullets fired from the enemies guns, targeted on James, He felt the life drain from him but not disappear, he stood there on the snow as a uniformed statue. From nowhere a body dove at him smothering him in brown and white imperfections.  An unclean trespasser on the white blanket.