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________________________________ enjoy:) (word count 2987) down the line
April 7th, 1917
gunshots. bombshells. screaming.
it's all i ever hear these days, awake or asleep. the world has disappeared into the trenches, death, blood and surviving is all we know.
the sunlight demands its way through my eyelids, struggling to keep myself asleep. the damp grass goes on to dampen the heavy trousers i wear everyday, to hide myself.
undoubtedly, everyone knows in this world, women are weaker than men. that they aren't better than just reproducing and cleaning.
not me.
my younger brother, my only brother, just reached the age of department. i still remember the look on his face when he read the letter. his face, my moms face, and mine.
taking the letter, the identity of my brother is how i am here. i couldn't let my brother come to this, he is only a kid. it took me awhile to get used to being called peter charles, rather than elizabeth charles.
i was scared, so scared of what would happen to me. if i was found out, if i got shot, if i died. but i can't die. i can't die knowing i failed him as a strong, big sister.
that's what gives me hope, most of these men don't have any hope anymore.
knowing that they won't be the same after this.
knowing their wives will become widows.
knowing they seen what no human should ever see.
it doesn't matter much, nothing matters anymore.
a sudden voice interrupted my train of thought
"blake"
i didn't attempt to stir any movement.
"blake!" the voice announces again, louder than the first time. i soon recognize the voice belonging to Sergeant Sanders of the 8th.
i peel my eyes open a bit, fuck the sun was bright.
"sorry, sarge" blake replies, removing his helmet from his eyes. opening my eyes all the way, attempting to setting in from the bright sun. the landscapes still, and unmoving..almost frozen.
