𝐍𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐄𝐋𝐓 𝐒𝐎 𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐄
in which, a young german girl comes
to her senses and starts to connect the
dots about her teenage years.
- all quiet on the western front, short story
- paul baümer x fem!oc
- lowercase intended
- all credit goe...
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𝐆𝐄𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐘, 𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐓-𝐖𝐀𝐑;
𝐠𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐟 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐠𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐚𝐝𝐚 𝐝𝐢𝐝 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠. in-fact, she hated it's sick and twisted ways. how it would tale everything from under you within an instant.
that's how she felt when her father passed. declared killed in action on the ninth of august, 1915. the cries created by her mother's vocal cords still haunt the very walls of their home, in every crack, in every dark corner.
but, sometimes when you look at someone, you can tell that they are just not made for something. and that someone was her father. he was a kind and gentle soul, too pure for the trenches, which he will now spend the rest of eternity.
but, ludwig was another. the poor boy. ada could so clearly see the fear that sank into his eyes as franz forged paul's father's signature. he didn't want this. he wanted to make his family proud - but, he wanted to live, and ada could see it. when she found out about ludwig's death, she wasn't surprised, as harsh as it sounds, he wasn't made for that. he was made for college and university. he was made for staying in the comfort of his own home. so much for honor and pride, poor thing didn't even last a week.
wheather as person is made for something or not, no-one is ever made for war. not the soliders, no matter how young, how old, or how experienced they claim to be. not the younger generation, who had to say goodbye to fathers' and brothers. not the older generation, who had to say goodbye to sons', brothers', their own blood. even people like ada, who became stuck in the middle of the mental barbed wire that was dotted around her mind. no-one is ever truly prepared for the horror. the sounds. the atmosphere. the death.
why older men prioritised and glorified war was beyond her. why would someone wish for something so awful?
when she thinks about the great war, she thinks about the blood that must of mixed with the mud and grime. the stained blood on the tips of the bayonets that everyone decided to ignore.
as ada starred at the men in-front of her, climbing out of the truck with traumatised eyes and bodily injuries so bad that it made her gag. missing limps. missing eyes. missing jaw. it made her feel violently ill, not only because of it's disturbing nature - but she could almost feel their pain from across the street.
she could feel grief sneaking up on her - taking no mercy. she could feel it's breath on her shoulder and it's teeth sinking into her - but no matter how hard she fought, she couldn't escape it's claws.
