In the trenches, Emily S

Explosions filled the air as Corporal Steven Hill sat in a trench next to his fellow American soldiers. One was across from him, rocking himself and flinching at every sound. "Poor Evan," Steven's friend John said, shaking his head. Steven nodded in agreement and tightened the grip on his gun. "Can't say that I blame him though," he said. Whatever response John gave was lost in the next explosion. It was closer, spraying dirt over the trench as the shell hit the ground. "I hate this," John said, trying to shake the mud out of his clothes. Steven nodded again as an officer came into view. "As soon as these shells stop we're moving out on my order!" He shouted over the explosions, moving on down the line and repeating the order. Steven and John looked at each other, their faces white and eyes wide with the realization that this could be the end. They shook hands solemnly and tensed for the signal to charge. Evan was oblivious, clutching his gun close to his chest as he shook. He didn't notice when a sharp blast from the officer's whistle blew; he didn't notice when his friends leaped over the side of the trench. The only things he knew were the sound of the shells and guns as the war raged on without him.

Corporal Steven Hill lost his life in that battle. His friend John lived, only to die a few months later after the trench was hit with mustard gas. Evan was sent to the army hospital, and after the war he spent the rest of his life in another hospital in the states. He never got over his shell shock, and when he died years later his family said he'd already died in the trenches of WWI.

comments? i know it's kind of short, i wrote it for the morning exercise.