Just a Multiuniverse - 1

10/11/2018 – 11/11/2018 – 12/11/2018

Published: Tuesday, 4/06/2019, 9:46

Warning: Violence

If you are reading it, take your time, because last I checked it, it was 5,000 words?  Yeah wow. I admire people who could actually write short stories. This is what I’d call, “years to read”. But the more, the merrier!  Just... try to enjoy it?  Much appreciated.

This story was a 5 years ago thing. It’s also the first story I’ve wrote in first year of secondary school... I just fleshed it out and placed more scenes and made things as clear as I can.

Though the ending just ended because I wanted it done, but yeah. I think it was titled “World War 1 with a twist”, since it was a war... with a silly twist. My teacher said that I couldn’t call it just “War with a twist”, hence the weird name. But I've even made it much weirder today

I think this is my longest story ever, so  any story later will be waaaay shorter. If there is a later =')


Red.

Black.

Red.

Green.

Black.

Then a gas of grey.

Then flashes of yellow beamed out and embedded themselves in the flesh under their chest unexpectedly. And then;

Red again.

Black clashing with green.

Grey, like a nightmare never ending.

There were shouts of the panicked injured. But there was nothing left for them, nothing we could do. Though on the contrary of nothing to do, there were roars of those either gone crazy or just those who probably didn’t care anymore after so much they saw.

I wondered if I was probably one of them. Though I had nothing left, this game seemed to keep me alive. It gave me everything I need for survival. I was paid for this. Actually, they paid us for this. For their family, homeland and loved ones, they struggled. But since I had nothing,  I didn’t have to worry. Fate back then, was all I thought that decided when I should live or die.

Because of this game, I was fed. It didn’t matter how terrible the food they gave me, as long as it’s enough to keep me alive. In this world, they just gave you enough. I didn’t know what else it give to their family, that they feel is worth fighting for. But for me, being here; with some purpose is just enough.

The living condition was terrible, but it was much better than risking your life for stealing; something that’s not worth torturing for. That was in contrast to instant death that I will experience one day.  But this was much better then the rules in those villages. I’d rather die quick then keeping me alive for pain.  The intensity of this game, away from those terrifying laws. A pure survival game. Survival of the fittest?  I wondered what this world would  be a hundred years from now.

I heard a click. And that was lucky, because everyone here depended on sounds, depended on making the first moves, and depended on anticipation. I rolled back before a bullet cracked the bolder I was just in front of. They were quick to get here too. Wow. I was sure that we were at a lost. A familiar horn sounded in the distance and that told us that.

Retreat.

But it may be late for most of us now. We weren’t trained well enough for them. A lot of us were already down. Gone. I wonder how their families will react. No one will know me if I died. I think it’s better this way too. It’s funny how I’m fighting for the country who’s law I hate, whose people I hate, whose people that sent us here. It works for me, but will it work just as well for them? For those who were gone?

I looked at those uniforms, shades of green and brown. We were different,  but in ways, we were similar too. It was maybe the same for them as it was for us. They were only defending in what they thought was right, for those whom they loved.  We were the same inside, we were a bag of red with white structures, joined together, capable of hurting and capable of loving.

Capable of living.

Capable of killing.

Capable of dying.

I pulled the trigger, and a family lost they’re member, forever, not coming back, someone will be missing and a hole will be left only for that person, a person that has something I once had.  I left him there as I rush away to safety, to survival, to another day surrounded by those who were in agony, those who were boasting, and those who were crying of loss of friends and partners.

Suffering. The camp I return to is lonelier than before. It’s emptiness growing with each collision. Could we blame them?  It may be the same over there too.



As we lost, we also grew; with boys from 15 to 50 who probably came out of excitement to be like us, and those whose older, probably because they had to.  A male from each family.  But it was easy to lure them, as it was said that they are doing the right for their country. You were to officially become a hero the minute you signed in your name.  It was pride that ran those stuff in those days. 

As we restocked in a neutral town, we met the newbies,  filled with enthusiasm, hyper even, and others like they seemed to know it all. Some with dreams and smiles that may only last one shot. Just one shot before they know the harsh reality outside the safe zone they had once been in. They’d realise that there’s no going back, because once you’re like us, you’ll never be the same. I had hopes that you’re prepared for it.  But then again, hope doesn’t exist in this world you’ve trespass. 

The bar was always where we sit at arrival to a neutral country’s town. The lads all drink like there was no tomorrow. Then again, there was no guarantee that you’d live tomorrow.  Almost anything would happen, even when you won’t see a bar for a good few months in those days.

Smoking, and with a beer in hand, something I couldn’t afford for in my days on the streets, I close my eyes,  listening to all the crap. Listening and then, flashbacks naturally occurred.  Something I’ve nearly gotten use to most of those times.

Red.