This is not my work, it is in fact my sisters shes 17 and is about to graduate shes a wonderful writer and actress, I want to know what you all think about her work because one day I hope that I can write like this....She wrote this piece for a pamphlet for her schools art show (she goes to a very very small private arts school)
WAR
By:Emi
I was crouched behind a building. I held my gun close to my chest. The heat today was different it was thick and dirty. Even though it was early morning, I could feel a drop of sweat slide down my forehead. I didn't know what was going on, I don't know if it was the heat, or if it was my officer that was pissing me off, or maybe it was this whole damn war,but I was tired of this.
I had stayed up until 3 am keeping watch, and now it was 8 am and I was crouched behind a ******** grocery store, waiting for the signal to move in. This town was deserted, some of our men had already stopped by and gutted it, we were the follow, and checking to make sure that everything was safe."Found one," I heard Simmons call out . I got from my spot and walked out into the street. Two soldiers were dragging a man out of a house nearby. They threw him into the street. He didn't move, he just lay there in the middle of the road while my officer cam and stood over him. Harrison didn't say anything, he waved me over. I took my time reaching them, the man still hadn't moved.
"Getup," Harrison said, pushing the man with his foot.they all had their guns drawn on a man with no ammunition. The man slowly sat up, his hair was short and sloppy,it looked like it hadn't been washed in days. My officer moved out of the way I stepped in front of him. His face was smudged with dirt, he was thin and slender, a scar about his left eye. I looked at him, he was young, younger than me even. "O'Neil take care of it," Harrison said.
I slowly took my gun out the mans eyes met mine. I stopped and stared. "O'Neil," my officer repeated. Then the man spoke, I couldn't understand him. He pulled his hand out and dug through his back pocket, pulling out a small worn down wallet. He flipped it open and took out a picture, showing it to me. "O'Neil," Harrison said again. I reached out and took it from him. It was a picture of a little girl, her hair was like his. She was wearing overalls I guessed her age was three or maybe four. I handed him the picture back and looked at the man. My hands tightened around my gun. "Soldier you have an order." Harrison barked.
I didn't know what I was doing, I didn't know what I wanted to do. "Sir," I said. "You have an order," he said. I swallowed hard, I couldn't stop looking at the man. "O'Neil take care of it," Harrison's voice faded out as I could hear nothing but myself thinking. It's like a high pressured noise you get when you plug your ears
and then I could hear my heart beat. It seemed like hours that my head was clogged and then it stopped."Do it," my officer yelled. I cocked my gun and pointed it at the man. Our eyes still locked. I heard the noise again as it filled me and my entire body. I didn't hear the gun shot go off, the noise stopped right after. The man lay in the street again, I stood still. I hadn't let go of the trigger yet. The two soldiers and Harrison left me. I stared at him hard. His body lay in a small puddle of blood, his head was cocked at an odd angle, and I had followed my order. I sat down next to the man squeezing my gun as hard as I could.
They let me be for a few hours, I sat there and all I could think of was his eyes and the way he looked at me before I shot him, as he showed me the picture of his daughter as a way to plead for his like, and the way I had shot him for something that I didn't even know about.
