The letter sat in Jerry's pocket, he stood over mangled and dead Germans. The smoke was flying from the burning buildings of the village.
"Retournez à Berlin, Chattes!" A French soldier yelled in the direction of the fleeing Germans.
Jerry looked at the blood on his uniform, and the mud on his rifle. He looked at the busted tank stuffed in the mud like a raccoon caught in a trap.
He walked to a table with a tipped over chair, positioned the chair upright and pulled a small leather notebook out of his chest pocket, along with a pencil previously snapped in half.
"Anastasia, we did it, with the help of the French we took the German captured village of Cantigny, drove the Germans miles back.
It was a long and painful battle but I have survived..."
Something wasn't right, Jerry stood up and for whatever reason turned and pushed open the shot up wooden door of the house behind him.
He walked into the dark, gun drawn.
Jerry got butted with a rifle the moment he walked in, he had no time to react.
"FICK DICH SELBST!" The young German yelled basically foaming from the mouth.
Jerry yelled the only German word he knew which was "Arschloch!"
He felt a knife pierce his gut. He screamed in pain.
The door got kicked open, Jerry heard a French soldier yell "Putain de chatte!" Before shooting the Kraut in the head.
The French soldier dropped to his knees and started to assist Jerry's wound.
"Eat-ce que tu parles français?" He said
"I don't speak French.." Jerry managed to say through the teeth he was grinding.
"I speech not much English.." the French nah said.
"That's alright, I can't speak any French my friend."
"Doctor?.. Medic?" The French man said
"They're probably all booked. Lotta men here who are hurt, and they'll rule me out at fatally wounded... my time is here." He said
"Cheval... horse." The French man said
"You got a horse?" Jerry Asked
"Yes.."
The galloped back to base camp and treated Jerry's wounds.
Jerry woke up, it was cold, frost covered the cold dead spring grass. He stood up and felt pain in his gut, and stumbled out of the tent. It was dark and gloomy, he looked around and saw men wandering in agony.
"Hey, what's going on?" Jerry called out to a fellow American soldier.
He looked at Jerry with still dead eyes and walked away like a zombie.
"The hell.." Jerry Said
He stumbled out to see a German man on the ground crying in pain, armless and shot up.
"How is he still alive?" Jerry asked himself.
He walked around and saw mutilated slaughtered men walking about. He saw in the distance American men packing up and walking away.
"HEY!" Jerry screamed to them, he ran over and got in their faces.
"Jesus Ferdinand, sometimes I feel like the ghosts on this battle field breath down my neck, it's spine chilling." The man said
Jerry felt his heart sink, he was dead. He was a ghost, bound to wander this battlefield.
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Scary Short Stories
Short StoryThis is a bunch of short scary stories that I have either created myself or have been inspired to write by other authors
