"Men, we must set up a bivouac, and quickly! Hop to it!"
"Sir yes sir!" The men chorused back as they dropped their loads.
"Rogers and Cochrain, keep your weapons ready. Watch for dangerous creatures or ambushes. The rest of you men, build shelters and get the fires going. Collins, Rockwell, and Portar on shelters, Smith and Sherman on food and fires, and Jefferson, help me with defensive measures." A fierce jungle wolf howled in the distance. The camp froze, one private's jaw beginning to form a tremulous question as another howled back a bone-chilling response. "Double time, men!" The men snapped to attention, dividing off into their groups.
The two lookouts gripped their laser rifles a little bit tighter as they strained to see into the deepening gloom. Rogers, the older of the two, begins to pace a small perimeter, never straying very far from the solar emitters. Cochrain remained fixated on a point far in the tangle of vines and leaves. He began to sweat as he continued to stare. His hands twitched on the rifle. His knees knocked under his fatigues. He peered harder, harder-eyes! Great luminous red eyes-filled with the lurid glow of a bloodthirsty killer seizing up on its prey-shone out of the dusky gloom.
Terrified, Cochrain gave a bellow and leaped back. His clammy finger trembled over the ignition of his weapon. A touch on his shoulder. Blam! At the touch of the captain, the nerve-wracked soldier fired off into the thick foliage. An unknown bird shrieked away into the night on billowing wings. The captain eased the gun out of the soldier's hand.
"Cochrain? Cochrain, what's wrong?"
"I...I...eyes."
"Eyes? In the brush? Where, Cochrain? C'mon, boy, speak to us. Where, for Raknar's sake?"
Cochrain shakily lifts his arm, and waveringly speaks. "There," he whispers, and falls into a dead faint. The captain slowly turns. Again, the lurid eyes appear from the jungle's twisted palisade of foliage. The captain begins to call the men, but as he backs away, the solar emitters die. The eyes leap. When the solar emitters spark back on, the bivouac is deserted.

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Random Writing Exercises
Short StoryJust some random things I've written to practice, whether in class or on my own. Bivouac was just a word of the day idea, and The Ballad was just a random metaphor I used to explain something to one of my friends. The last four were timed, so they a...