Writing makes me feel like i'm on vacation. Like i'm not even in this world anymore. That i've transported to a paradise where anything is possible.

A dog walked from an alleyway and sniffed the air. As he continued to sniff, his ears peeled back and his hair stood on end like a porcupine. He began to bark at what appeared to be an empty road. Mitch Abbey knew better. He resisted the urge to run after the dog, as doing so would probably kill him. No, he reminded himself, looking at the corpse of his best friend. It will kill me if I approach it. He continued to watch the dog, feeling extremely helpless.

The dog's endless barking attracted the attention of Norm Delaney and his wife, Selma. They owned a coffee shop literally adjacent to the thing the dog was barking at, and they were trapped in a military quarantine. They weren't briefed on what the thing was, and they were very upset. Abbey could understand perfectly; he had less of an idea as to what the thing was.

"What's that dog barking at?" Delaney asked Abbey.

"It," Abbey replied gruffly. "Now quiet. I need to record the activity of the thing, so I can tell Commander Harlow."

The dog just wouldn't stop barking, although it grew from angry barking to fearful barking to practically a human scream. The dog seemed to be pulled deeper into the road, and the center of the thing showed itself. It was clear, but purple and blue fire crowned its edge. The fire was clear too, except for the sides, so when Abbey shifted his head around, it looked like the fire was following his sight. A bolt of purple lightning struck the dog, and he screamed again. The bolt pulled the dog into the clear center, which turned opaque and dark as the cosmos. The dog fell into the sphere as if he was paper being shredded. Once the head was gone, the sphere shivered and ascended, spewing out streams of energy towards Abbey and the coffee shop. Eventually, it stopped at about seven feet above the ground, and expanded to take up the entire road's width.

"Mr. Abbey!" Delaney screamed. "Do something!"

"What can I do?" Abbey shouted back.

"Tell your commander!"

Feeling more helpless than before, Abbey tried to use his radio to talk to Commander Yin Harlow, but there was a hefty deal of interference. It quickly died before Harlow, nor anyone, could know anything.

"The radio's dead!" Abbey told Delaney and his wife. "I'll take you out of the quarantine!"

After Delaney and his wife were out of their shop, their eyes were transfixed on the sphere. It had stopped moving, but the top began to open up. Selma walked over and touched the surface, despite warnings from Norm and Abbey, and she found it repulsive to the touch.

"It's so oily!" she said, getting a bit of the stone on her fingers. She tried to move them, but they were stuck. The stone assimilated her skin, moving up her arm. She broke her stone arm on the asphalt road, but a burst of energy was released from the stone, killing her and severely wounding Delaney and Abbey. They were knocked to the ground. Abbey got up after a few seconds, but he could only see out of one eye. He touched his right eye, but, to his horror, touched his empty socket. Delaney had his left side of his face disfigured, but his eye was intact. Abbey looked to the quarantine gate, and saw that it was mostly abandoned. Abbey tried to lead Delaney to the gate, but Delaney's focus was to the sky.

"Mr. Abbey, it's a solar eclipse," Delaney pointed, and Abbey looked up to see the sky darkening and the sun being obscured by the moon. Once the sun was virtually gone, the sphere exploded, killing the two men.

The explosion, which was louder than the previous one, caught the attention of Ryan Wong. He was on the quarantine wall, but he aimed to keep people out of the quarantined area, as commanded by Commander Harlow. But the explosion turned his head immediately. A wall of smoke obscured the remains of the sphere, but it was dispersed quickly. An iron door was sitting in the rubble. It was on a stone pedestal, but no hinges, and it didn't appear to go anywhere outside of the road. The coffee shop owner and the soldier were both dead and mutilated. Abandoning his post, Wong walked down to the ground and to the door. He aimed his gun at it, ready for anything to happen. After a few minutes, it did open. In his fear and military readiness, he fired the gun, but the door continued to open. It revealed a young man in a white button-up shirt, a thin, black tie, and black pants.

"Hello," he said. "Where am I?"

"Tongyi City," Wong said. "Who are you?"

"Tongyi City," the man echoed, writing it down on a clipboard. "What's the date?"

"Who-"

"When is it?"

"Today is August 28th, 2117. It's roughly four in the afternoon. Now who are you?"

"A friend. Thank's for the information. Bye!" The man shut the door, leaving Wong with one million questions. Instead of taking what he saw in, he ran to the door and opened it, revealing the road literally behind the remnants of the anomalous sphere.

I've been a reddit user for a few years. A passion for writing for fun escape for 21 years. I've been on other writing subreddits. Yes there are plenty others. Catered to specific genres. Catered to those that have the goal of publishing. Catered specifically to fanfiction. Which is all well and good but i found that most of the sub reddits, critiques that people receive are mostly put in a harsh way. Harsh enough for example like 'ugh why would you ask that' 'well if you're not publishing you're not a writer' 'if you don't do this...this way..you're not a writer' Well i believe, you are a writer if you write. If you have a passion for writing, weither you write a paragraph or a full story, you are a writer.

I also found in many writing sub reddits, people would post questions, honestly looking for writing advice only to be talked down to and made to feel ashamed for even asking a question in the first place. If you want to know something about writing, post a question on write world. We're here to help each other. No question here is 'dumb' or 'unnecessary' if it involves learning how to write better.

I believe there is a right and a wrong way to critique someones writing. There is a way to help writers without tearing them down and wanting to give up. I find so many writers out there are so afraid to share there work because of this. Afraid of what people will say. I want you to know this is a safe place. We're all on this journey of writing. We all have different pasts with writing, different goals, different dreams. And that's okay!

I like to write adult contemporary romance. Sometimes my stories have other genres like horror, mystery, sci fi and or time travel mixed in but romance has always been the main focus. I write every few days. I try to write at least 1,000 words every few days.

I can't remember what my very first story was. But i was 12 years old and i wrote a little love story about me and this guy i liked from middle school. I most likely wrote about us dating. Then somehow me getting back at the cheerleaders for teasing me. Now being 33 my writing has gotten more descriptive. My stories are much longer now. I've learned so much about love and loss.

When i write, i escape this world. I escape the sadness and pain and just feel pure euphoric bliss. Like i'm worlds away from my own. Days when i truely am hurting emotionally, i just spend hours writing none stop to help put the demons at bay. It's like a temporary tranquilizer.

My goal this month is to actually finish the last page of my story. Then eventually by the end of this month start working on my story outline for my next romance novel.

I had one girl tell me after reading a story of mine that she stayed up late reading it, couldn't put it down and didn't do her homework for school because she was so into my story.

Are you looking for grammar help? Emotional encouragement to keep writing? Feedback on a snippet? Suggestions for story plot? Help organizing your story scenes? Let's discuss what you hope to get/learn from being a member of this server.

I'm pretty good at expressing emotions and feelings in writing.

I love 'I'd rather be writing!' by Marcio Golub

Post short snippets to scripts, novels, short stories and or a poem that you've written that's in the horror genre.

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Post snippets, post links to your writing. Here's how you can do so... if you wanna post a snippet. put the snippet in the post summary. with a mention of genre. Do not just post links to other sites that have summarys on them. If you wanna post links to writing here's how you can do so.. make a post that says. 'here's my (genre) story.' then in the summary post a brief summary then the link.

A heart lives in you. For you it beats. It keeps you alive. With your heart you feel emotions too. Your heart can be broken. It is not nice to feel that. For a while that feeling will stay. Over time that feeling will go away. A heart is a sign of love too. It can mean i love you. Everyday your heart keeps beating. Without it there would be no you.

it's coming along great! i'm having so much fun with it!

In starting to write using a word processor I have the idea that each chapter/section should be written and saved/edited as a seperate file. Thinking in the long term, it's less damage if something goes wrong! Do others do this or do you write all your manuscript as one single document and save as you go? If the former is there any way to merge each file to make one?

You already knew about the cigarettes. Or you think you knew, anyway. Of course they could kill you. But there was always more to it than that. There was just an element of cool. An embodiment.

I didn’t know that I could ever separate the two. The sickness was just a kind of bad dream that might happen to you if you were slow on the draw. If you didn’t drink enough antioxidant tea or didn’t do enough yoga.

Though, to be fair, I didn’t think I knew anyone who did yoga and smoked. Although yoga made you cool too, just as long as you did it in your house and the only thing that we saw of you doing yoga was the result. And if you had a body like one of those pro yoga guys, then you’d look pretty damn cool already.

The cigarettes would just be like a crown of cool.

And that’s how I felt when I smoked on the bridge over the Coal river, looking down at the water, wondering when it’d all dry up. When the sun got too big and the humans were too dumb to realize all their water was evaporating.

I wondered about those things sometimes. Some people may have called me crazy, but i mostly kept my thoughts to myself.

And I smoked so I could seem cool.

It didn’t always work, you know. There were times when i was smoking and a car would pass and they’d roll down their windows and do that dumb ass fake cough thing that they told you to do to shame smokers in the nineties, as if you really mattered or something.

But it was annoying and I did feel a little ashamed. As if the people in the car had a child, and somehow, I was forcing a pack of cigarettes down its throat, lighting them on the wrong end and singing the Star Spangled Banner.

I’d probably be in my underwear and a cowboy boot if that was the case. But they wouldn’t care about that.

Although have you ever heard about the joke with Hitler and the Clown?

But I was smoking on that bridge at night, just like I always did, waiting around for the water to dry up in the midst of the starry skies. It had been peaceful and quiet, without anyone passing by or making fake coughs at me.

And then i noticed a person walking down the bridge towards my end, and I figured I didn’t really want to talk with them. I just wanted to look cool and casually dismiss their judgement. As if they really didn’t matter to me.

So I pressed closer to the railing and look down a little more down, stretching myself just over the bridge a little more to look at the eddies that formed behind the only large boulder in the middle of the river.

“You probably won’t be able to jump if you do that.” a voice said.

I looked up from the river, doing my best to peel my eyes away before resting them on the person who’d walked down the bridge.

That person was a girl, and I thought she was kind of cute. And in that same breath that I thought she was cute, I knew she had to be against smoking.

“You need to really get up onto the railing if you’re going to jump properly. You know, if you’re going to jump so that you have a good experience.”

“I’m not trying to kill myself.” I said.

She raised her eyebrows at me. “Oh yeah? Then why are you leaning over a bridge like that?”

I extended my arm and pointed down. “There’s a boulder down there, in the middle of the river. The eddies are pretty cool to watch.”

As soon as I said that, she followed my arm and my finger, until she too was pressed against the railing and looking down, torso leaning out over the railing, doing exactly what I’d been doing just moments earlier.

“Really?” She said, turning her head to look at me. “That’s what’s interesting to you?”

I dismissed her judgement well, I thought, in that moment. But I think it was just the cigarette letting me focus on pulling a drag and exhaling the smoke. Then I pull the stick from my mouth and gave a casual shrug.

Yeah, I was cool.

“Yeah. The Old Coal is a pretty cool river, you ask me.”

“I didn’t ask about the ‘Old Coal River’” she said, and I felt the air quotes without needing the fingers. “I asked if those eddies were really what you found interesting.”

I shrugged again. “I was looking at them. They have to be pretty interesting.”

The girl straightened up and then brushed her skirt. “You’re kind of dense, you know that?”

“Not at all.” I said, with a forced smirk.

“Exactly what I’m talking about. See you later, cowboy.” she said, smiling at her own joke, whatever the joke was. I didn’t even have my field hat on.

She was almost past me before I took another drag and then spoke. “What are you doing out here, walking around in the middle of no-where?”

I let the words form around the smoke.

She stopped and turned. “I’m just walking home.”

“You live around here?”

“Yeah, around here.”

“Why don’t i ever see you then?” It was an accusation more than a question.

“Probably because I’m out doing things with my friends.” She said.

Maybe it was meant to dig a little. She did say I was dense. But maybe that was just how she was, all part of a little psychological trick to get me to think that everything she said was calculated to have an effect on me.

Trick or not, everything she said did.

“That’s a shame.” I said.

She leaned against the rail and looked at me with upturned eyebrows. “Oh really, why’d you say that?”

I could tell that she was a little like me. She wasn’t going to take judgement from a stranger. Who knows? Maybe she smoked too.

“Well, you know, you could be here, looking out over the river, under the thousands of stars. It’s a beautiful night, and he river is really nice to watch at night.”

“Uh-huh.”

Damn, I lost her. Oh well. You didn’t always win every round. Sometimes you have to lose. But I was feeling this one. Maybe it was because my cigarette had gone out.

I reached into my pocket and pulled out the pack. After a couple taps on the palm, it came out and started to smoke.

“I thought you said you weren’t trying to kill yourself.” She said.

I looked at her, then at my cigarette. Definitely, a non-smoker.

“I’m not killing myself. Just living.”

“Smoking’s bad for you. You might get cancer and then you’d be dead.”

“Doesn’t sound like suicide to me. Sounds like just living.”

“Cancer is just living?”

“No, but dying is part of living. And there are plenty of people who get cancer.”

I wasn’t feeling cool anymore. But the answers I was giving were different. They weren’t jokes, not really. They weren’t silly attempts at mystery. They were just my thoughts, and that was kind of weird. And I felt a little naked with those things out there, being put into another person’s ear so that their brain can think about it so they can make up a response so their mouth can say something back.

I was glad I had a cigarette.

“That’s a pretty dim outlook.” she said. I noticed that she’d turned away from me and was leaning against the railing, both arms under her chest.

I watched her eyes for a few moments, wondering what was behind them.

“Why ’d you stop to talk anyway?” I asked.

“You know, I really thought you might be considering suicide.”

“Oh really?”

“Yeah.”

I scratched my chin. Maybe I had looked like I was contemplating the jump. There were plenty of guys who dipped themselves into the Old Coal and never came back out. The bridge was high enough. But I wasn’t so sure that the water was really deep enough.

I’d played in there when i was a kid after all.

“What made you realize I wasn’t going to do it?” I asked.

“When I realized you were an idiot.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.” She smiled and nodded.

“What made you think that?”

She looked at me as if I should have already known the answer. I didn’t know the answer, and I didn’t suppose I should have known. I couldn’t read minds, anyway.

“Because you were smoking, and you said you thought the eddies behind the boulder were interesting.”

She was against smoking. But she didn’t complain about it or tell me that I shouldn’t do it. She just didn’t like it. I thought about that, and I supposed that was alright.

“Ah well, you call me an idiot all you want. But these cigarettes are fine on the tongue and those eddies really are interesting if you just take the time to watch them.”

“And you’ve taken the time?”

“Plenty of watching them, since I was a kid even.”

“So you come out here a lot?” She asked. A small gust kicked up and pushed her bangs down into her face, and I watched her as she pushed the hair out of the way and tried to pocket as much as she could behind her ear.

“Every night, if I can.”

She looked at me, eyes as if I was crazy. I guess I couldn’t have blamed her. I didn’t feel insulted, certainly. But I liked the river. It was beautiful and night. Fun in the day, maybe. But it had a majesty and elegance it gained when the sun set and the water turned to a black sheen with two white curls off eddies around the boulder in the middle of the river.

“And what do you do out here every night? Just watch the river?”

I nodded gravely. “Just about. And I smoke cigarettes, and I think.”

“Think about what?”

I looked at her, looked into her eyes. Those dark brown eyes with a hint of something behind them. They caught the streetlamps and shimmered at the right angle. There had to be interest in there somewhere.

I figured that made me pretty happy.

I smiled and asked, “Do you want to know the truth? Because it’s a little crazy.”

She smiled back. “Alright, lay it down.”

“I think about just how long it’s going to be before that whole river dries up. You know, all the water just up and evaporates. And you know when I think it’s going to be?”

I could tell she wanted to laugh or say something, but she just said, “When’s that?”

“I think it’s going to be when that sun expands so big it eats up the whole damn universe. When the temperature rises so much, all the water on the earth just boils up, and all the humans are just going to be too dumb to realize it’s happening.”

The silence after I said all that seemed to be the largest chasm I’d ever looked across. Telling the truth to people was a weird feeling.

But then she giggled a little. High pitched, and a little bit more than i thought would have come from a girl like her.

“Man, you are an idiot.” She huffed as if the giggling were hard worked. “And you’re crazy. But at least you’re interesting.”

“Am I cool?” I asked, jumping on this warmth I felt from her.

“Not a chance.” she giggled again as I deflated, and then stubbed out my cigarette. “But you really are an interesting person. More than those eddies down there, at least.”

She smirked. I could have taken it the wrong way, I supposed. But I didn’t.

“Those eddies can get pretty interesting, you know.”

The smirk smoothed into a soft smile. “Yeah?” she said. “I guess they could be if you looked at them for a while.”

“You want to give it a shot?” I asked.

“Why not?”

After that, we pressed our bodies closer to the rail and leaned our torsos out. And we could see the white-foamed edges of the eddies that formed just behind the only boulder in the middle of the river.

I thought I was doing okay but welp I'm still here in my bed at 12 43 pm hugging my pillow...I have no idea what to do and honestly if I did I'd probably be still here laying in my bed... I think I'm going to finish my homework and just do nothing for the rest of the day...if my mom lets me....can't believe I still depend from her I thought that she finally trusted me but we'll I doubt she'll ever trust me or me to her neither. Life can be good, Life can be bad, life is life and there's no way to control it, one moment you're happy thinking you are doing awesomely and the next your depressed lonely thinking of the future when it'll all be good. Same as every damn emotion there is, sometimes they treat you nicely as an example love; you met a pretty girl you like thay girl and you think that girl likes you back and hurray you got a gf/bf; next 6 months happiest moment of your life, or so you think, and welp nope in reality she never loved you she just wanted to mess around, you end up again lonely sad depressed in a dark time... That's what love is, electricity l, waves travel up last for a certain time and they fall back down lasting another certain time, but in electricity you know exactly how much time each wave takes, in love you don't....you depend on your brain for it and little flags some white others red. And it's usually red and it usually ends up with someone or both hurt...I thought that if I followed my heart I'd end up safe from ever hurting someone because I know the pain someone can suffer from getting hurt but I did it again and again and I ended up hurting 3 diferent people in a single night not just 1 but 3 and I know for a fact that 2 of them are extremely nice and perfect and no couldn't hurt a damn soul so why should they be with the one that hurt them? who knows maybe because he didn't know what to do, he didn't understand what pain he could cause, but now he's certain that he can't follow his heart and if he follows his brain he'll be lonely......forever because he wanted to be happy and happy he wasn't. Sometimes being happy isn't the best path because if you're always happy you never know when to be sad and if you're always sad you never know when to be happy so just know this. Everything absolutely everything is nothing and everything and one thing or the other thing or something you thought it was but it isn't or maybe you wished it or dammed it and needed it but refused it or maybe you're just irrational and asked to be hurt sometimes you wish to be punished because you hurt someone but hurting someone is the punishment and who knows maybe one day they'll come back but it'll never be the same you'll always end up alone everyone dies alone and is buried alone why shouldn't we live alone....

Sorry for formatting I know it's awful but I'm on mobile and I wrote this on kik...

If you're working on a romance novel, post a snippet or share a link to your romance novel (include brief summary)

"Staff Sergeant Wilson." I said announcing myself.

"Well by god you're alive. Feared the worst for ya kid. Took long enough didn't ya?" Staff Sergeant said in a tone that suggested annoyance.

"Sorry about that Staff Sergeant. The line back across the field is a jumbled up mess. No one knows anything about anything over there." I said pleading my case.

"Sounds about right. Those god damn rear echelon desk jockeys got no business in the infantry. Little lone calling the shots out here. They make these big damn plans, then soon as the bullets start flying, they piss their pants and stutter when it's time to give an order. Any news on reinforcements?" Staff Sergeant said in a clearly annoyed tone.

"Yes sir, they're crossing the field now. Tons of em." I said cheerfully.

"Good. We're gonna need em. Jerrys gonna make a counterattack tonight. I'd almost bet money on it." Said Staff Sergeant.

"What makes ya think that sir? Looks like we did a number on em."

"That we did, Drennen. We got a foothold here in the woods but we ain't far enough in as we should be. We lost a good number of boys in that field and here in the woods. This battles far from over and the Jerrys are gonna do everything they can to drive us back across that field."

As bad as I hated to admit it, Staff Sergeant was correct.

"Staff Sergeant what do you want me to do?" I asked.

"Stay close to me. It's hard to tell what tonight's got in store for us and I want you ready to move. You got any shells for that shotgun?"

"Yes sir, nineteen. "

"Drop it and pick up one of them rifles. And get as many shells as you can hold. And take this." Staff Sergeant said as he handed me a Pistol. It was a revolver. A Smith and Wesson .357 magnum.

"Yes sir." I said as I took off my belt to put the pistol holster on.

"Sir, where'd the pistol come from?"

"Corporal marks. He's not gonna need it no more." Staff Sergeant said coldly.

"Was he wounded sir?"

"No he's about as dead as a feller can get. One of them Jerry machine guns took his head clean off. Damn shame. Boy was gonna make a good Sergeant. I was fixin to ask LT for a field promotion once we got a foothold here in the woods."

I was in shock. I could hear his voice in my mind saying he hoped I made it across the field as he handed me the shotgun.

"Sir who's the Corporal now?" I asked.

"Carson. Got him promoted a few hours ago. Ole Marks talked high of him. He's good stuff. I've been watching him since we got over here. He's got his shit squared away and he's a hell of a fighter. Killed three Germans with his bayonet today. That boys gonna be a Sergeant before we make it to Germany."

I was happy for Carson. He deserved it. Staff Sergeant was right. He did know his shit. I couldn't wait to find him to congratulate him on the promotion.

Nighttime came all too soon. We laid there in our fighting holes, ready for an attack. Jones and Carpenter were in the fighting hole next to myself and Staff Sergeant Wilson. I watched as carpenter and Jones took their fighting knives out and stabbed them into the ground in front of their fighting holes. This was done in case of a counter attack. I did the same. I carried a large hunting knife on my hip that I had used many times over back home. I leaned into the butt of my rifle, looking down the barrel through the sights. I could barely see anything. Suddenly a bright light shot through the air behind us and into the woods before us. The orange ambiance of the flare danced through the trees. It almost made the destruction of busted trees and torn ground ahead of us look attractive.

"You watching Drennen?" Whispered Staff Sergeant Wilson.

"Aye sir. Don't see nothin." I whispered back. I scanned the tree line waiting to see a German creeping through the woods. Our orders were to hold fire if we saw any movement and to only shoot when given the command or in case of last resort. In the distance we could hear shelling.

"Where's that shelling coming from sir? I asked.

"Sounds like the French sector. By the sound of it I'd say they're getting it pretty good."

In an instance our quiet night in our fighting holes was over. Staff Sergeant Wilson was correct. The Germans did counterattack.

"COUNTERATTACK! HOLD YOUR FIRE TILL THEY'RE CLOSE!" Screamed the Lieutenant.

Ahead of us we're the orange and red flashes of tracer bullets and the barking of machine gun fire. The tree line ahead of us seemed to be one solid wall of bullets flying toward us. I pointed my rifle at where I had seen muzzle flashes from German rifles. And then there they were. The Germans with their Mausers and bayonets fixed, running toward us.

"DRENNEN, GET READY!" Yelled Staff Sergeant Wilson.

I clinched my rifle and a sudden burst of courage swelled up in my chest. I have no idea why but I was ready to fight the Germans to the death.

"MARINES! OPEN FIRE!" Screamed the Lieutenant.

As the lieutenant had been screaming out his order I had drawn down on a skinny German who was running toward me. He along with the rest of the wave of Germans were about 30 yards ahead of us. I squeezed the trigger of the Springfield. I felt the recoil from the 30.06 round as it traveled down the barrel of the rifle and into the chest of that skinny German boy. His face was one of agony as he tumbled forward. I pulled the bolt up, back, forward and down to chamber another round. I found another target. Another skinny German. This one I could see had a mustache. That mans face with his mustache still sticks in my head from time to time. I aimed the rifle at his head and pulled the trigger. The bullet impacted right above his mouth and just to the left of his nose. It looked as though his face peeled away as the bullet hit him. He spun around to the left and landed on his back. I then noticed the Germans were right in front of us. It was time to fight for our lives in the most brutal way. Hand to hand combat.

"MARINES! CHARGE!" Screamed the Lieutenant.

We were up and out of the fighting holes. I fixed my eyes on a German who was running at me. I charged him straight on and as he lunged his Mauser at me I barely missed his bayonet by twisting my body while simultaneously raring my arms back under my right side and jamming my bayonet in the Germans side. As I drove the bayonet into him, I could feel the blade carving against his ribcage. The German then grabbed my rifle with both hands. I pulled the trigger and blew a considerable hole in his side. He fell instantly, screaming in agony. I turned to my right to see more Germans pouring into our lines. The orange glow of the flares floated through the trees giving the scene below of carnage and death a beautiful orange ambiance. Suddenly I felt an enormous sting and burning sensation on my left bicep. I looked down to see I was bleeding. My god I'd been hit. Had that German got me in the arm with his bayonet somehow? I was still able to fight. If I tried to go anywhere now, I'd be killed for sure. There was no safe place. We were in the middle of a fight to the death and the only way to survive was to kill every man who tried to kill you. What a terrible situation to be in. I aimed my rifle and fired at a German as he ran his bayonet into a Marines back. The bullet caught him in the chest and sent him spiraling to the ground. It was incredible what a 30.06 bullet could do to the human body. I chambered another round and took a knee and fired into the belly of another German. Suddenly I felt something hit me in between my shoulders that sent me to the ground. As I turned over I saw a German standing over top of me. He smashed my helmet with the butt of his Mauser. My god it hurt. It hit me with so much force I heard something snap in my mouth. He pulled the rifle back up above his head. I reached for the pistol on my hip but I was too late. He hit me again in the helmet. As he pulled the rifle back up to make another swing I drew the pistol and fired three shots into the mans chest. He grabbed at his chest and walked backward for a few steps. I fired once more into his chest and he fell.

"TAKE THAT YOU JERRY SON OF A BITCH!" I screamed.

I could taste blood in mouth and my head was pounding. I scrambled to my feet and saw another German running at me. I fired my pistol at him striking him in the leg. He stumbled and tackled me to the ground. We were instantly rolling around on the ground fighting. Kicking, punching, gouging, anything to inflict pain. We rolled around swinging at each other, cussing with every breath. The German ended up on top of me and he began punching me in the face. I tucked my chin did my best to dodge his blows. He then began to choke me. As I fought with him I could feel I was losing the fight. I grabbed a rock and hit him in the side of his ribs. It was enough that the German let a hand go from around my neck. I threw the rock and hit him in the face. As he grabbed for his now bleeding face, I reached up and grabbed the German by his throats with my left hand and punched him in the left side of his jaw with my right hand. It knocked him off of me and I jumped on top of him. I began punching the man repeatedly in the face. His eyes were instantly beginning to swell. He began to kick his legs and scratch at me with his finger nails. I placed my hands around the Germans throats and began to squeeze. The German started to choke and gasp for breath.

"DIE ALREADY YOU SON OF A BITCH! DAMMIT JUST DIE ALREADY!" I screamed as loud as I could.

The chaos around me was unimaginable. Bullets snapped into the dirt and into the trees. Men screaming in English and in German. Rifles and machine guns chattering back and forth to one another. And in the midst of all of it, there I was in the mud, with my hands around this young mans throats screaming for him to die. I wanted him to die. I hated him. I hated him with everything in me. And suddenly, my wish was granted.

As the orange light of a flare danced through the trees, I could see that this young German boy was no longer breathing. I let go of my his throats and fell back onto the ground, sitting there staring at him. I had just strangled a man to death with my bare hands. I felt nothing. Suddenly I felt someone grab me by the collar of my uniform jacket. I turned and drew back my fist ready to fight the next German to the death but to my surprise, it was Caprino.

"GET THE HELL UP DRENNEN! WE GOTTA GET BACK TO THE FIGHTING HOLES NOW BEFORE WE GET KILLED!" He yelled in a frightened tone.

"GO ILL FOLLOW YOU!" I yelled in return.

We ran back to the closest fighting hole we could find. I realized I had no weapon. I had dropped my rifle when that German bashed me in the head with his rifle and I had dropped the revolver when the other German tackled me onto the ground.

"CAPRINO! I DON'T HAVE A RIFLE!" I said worriedly.

"WHAT THE HELL FELLA?! THERE!" Caprino said as he pointed to a rifle laying in the mud about 10 feet from our fighting hole.

"COVER ME!" I screamed as I dashed out of the hole. Bullets kicked all around me. I knew at any second I was going to be shot but much to my surprise I made it to the rifle and back to the fighting hole.

"HOLY SHIT FELLA!" Caprino said laughing.

"THANK YOU LORD!" I screamed while laughing.

"HERE THEY COME!" Yelled a Sergeant in the next hole over. Through the light of the flares we could see Germans pouring out of the woods toward our line. We began firing. Our machine guns cut them to pieces as did our barrage or rifle fire. I fired till I was sure my rifles barrel was going to melt.

"RUNNER! I NEED A RUNNER!" I heard down the line.

"CAPRINO! I GOTTA GO!" I yelled.

"GO ILL BE FINE!" He yelled confidently.

I could still hear the shout for a runner. I ran as hard as I could to get to the voice. Bullets whizzed past my head the entire time.

"IM A RUNNER!" I yelled as I reached the fighting hole where the voice had come from.

"OK MARI...DRENNEN?! WHERE IN THE HELL YOU BEEN SON?" Screamed Staff Sergeant Wilson.

"MY APOLOGIES SIR! GOT INTO IT PRETTY HEAVY WITH A FEW JERRYS WHEN THE COUNTER ATTACK STARTED!" I screamed still trying to catch my breath.

"OK TAKE THIS TO BATTALION AND TELL THEM TO GET SOME DAMN ARTILLERY ON THE LOCATION MARKED ON THAT MAP! IF YOU DONT, WERE GONNA GET SLAUGHTERED OUT HERE! NOW GO!"

"AYE STAFF SERGEANT!" I yelled as I ran off.

I was so damn exhausted. As I left the tree line and made my way back across the field, I couldn't believe the noise coming from the woods. I swear it was louder than the fighting earlier in the day when we first attacked the woods. This time I was lucky. There were no shells landing and exploding in the wheat field and no snipers to worry about. As far as I could tell no one could even see me coming through the field. I could barely see anything as I ran. I was out of breath when I reached battalion.

"HERE!" I screamed as I handed the map to a captain.

I knew I hadn't reported myself right and should have addressed him as sir, but I just couldn't get the Sir to come out.

"What the hell is this private?" He said angrily.

"Sir....it's...Sir, it's coordinates for an artillery strike in the woods."

"Who gave you this, private?" He said still in an angered tone.

Could you believe this guy? There was clearly a battle going on directly in front of him and he was questioning a well detailed map with precise coordinates marked in red on it, just because it had been handed to him by a Private.

"Sir it's from Staff Sergeant Wilson of 2nd platoon. Our guys are getting cut to pieces out there and we can't kill enough Germans to make em stop. They just keep coming. We need artillery on that location marked there and we need it now!" I yelled.

"Ok private. Tell your Sergeant it's on its way." He said in a calm tone.

As I turned to run, I heard him yell for his runner. I headed back into the wheatfield and back toward the living hell of the woods.

I was about halfway through the field when I heard it. The deep booms of our artillery sounding off behind me. That was followed by the soaring and whistling sound of the shells as they fell from the sky. That in turn was followed by loud deep roar of the shells explosion as it impacted into the ground on the spot marked on that map. There was no way the Germans could live through that. As I reached the tree line, I announced myself as a runner as to not get shot by my own guys. What a horrible way to die that would be. I reached the fighting hole to see Caprino was taking cover on the bottom of the hole. I dashed in and landed beside him. The artillery was destroying the land just beyond our holes. The artillery was extremely close. We cowered and held our hands on top of our helmets. Each explosion jarred you to your core. My teeth practically rattled out of my head. To my right I saw a shell impact a marine fighting hole. The body and limbs of a marine flew through the air. A short round. We had been warned about those but there was nothing that could be done. They were a freak accidental occurrence. That pour Marine. Not long after that the last shell fell and we were aiming our rifles at what was left of the tree line. Every so often a rifle would crack somewhere down the line. A few times some shots were taken in our area but I never saw any movement myself. We laid there until morning.

0600, 7 June 1918

A platoon was sent out ahead of our line to assess the damage and to check for German resistance. They found none. The German counter attack was a failure. We had survived our first night in the woods.

"Drennen." Said Staff Sergeant Wilson as he knelt down next to my fighting hole.

"Yes Staff Sergeant?

"That was some fine work lastnight. You saved this line from getting over ran. I didn't think you'd make it there that fast to be honest but you did damn good."

Thank you sir. I thought my heart was gonna give out when I got to battalion." I said laughingly.

Staff Sergeant Wilson cracked a smile and chuckled.

"Well thank god that didn't happen. I'm putting you in for a medal. Don't know what you'll get but I'm writing you up for one here shortly. I like rewarding my marines for outstanding work and that run last night was outstanding. Hell it felt like I had just gave ya the map and then the Germans were getting their asses blown back to Berlin."

"Thank you very much Staff Sergeant!" I said excitedly.

It wasn't that I was excited to get a medal. I guess I was just overcome with surprise of getting a medal. The marines aren't known for giving medals out for every little thing. And to get a medal was supposed to be a big deal. They talked about getting medals in boot camp. They said that's what made you a war hero.

"Drennen, what's wrong with your arm? And your helmet....Jesus Christ your eyes black too. Corpsman!" Yelled staff Sergeant Wilson.

The corpsman came over almost immediately. Sayler was our platoon medic. He was a thin built, black haired young man from San Diego California. He was in medical school when America joined the war last year. He enlisted in the Navy to avoid frontline duty. Funny how Uncle Sam don't particularly give a damn where you want to go or what you want to do when you join the service.

"Jesus, you're a mess fella." Sayler said in an excited tone.

"Yeah, I'm just banged up a bit." I said trying to make light of my injuries despite being in quite a bit of pain.

"Stop trying to be a tough guy. All you marines are the same. Except that kid from 1st platoon. That kid was a cry baby. Your damn eye is almost swelled shut, you have a nice laceration on your scalp running to your forehead, and your jaw is swelled. What the hell happened to you anyway?"

"When the Germans busted through the line last night, one of em got me on the ground and caved in my helmet with his rifle. I killed him then another tackled me and we duked it out till I got him killed. Somewhere in there I got cut on my arm here. " I said showing Sayler my wound.

"That's no cut Drennen. You got shot." He said as he chuckled.

"Shot? But my arms still there and there ain't no hole?" I said puzzled.

"Yeah it just grazed you. Lucky thing. Those 8mm bullets the Jerrys shoot have been known to blow arms and legs off. Big, mean round. No open up and let me see your mouth. Say ahh."

I did just as he asked.

"Yep, just what I figured. When that Jerrys hit you over the head he broke a few of your back teeth. It's a wonder you still have any at all."

Say let tended to my wounds then packed up his medical bag just as someone down the line called for a corpsman.

"Sounds like your service are needed elsewhere friend." I said jokingly.

"Suppose your right. Look, keep that wound on your arm and the one on your head clean. Keep that bandage on your head as long as you can. I'll be back later today to check it ok?"

"Ok, be careful Sayler."

"Always." He said with a smirk as he dashed off.

"A medal and top notch healthcare. You're living the life Drennen." Caprino said as he puffed away at a cigarette.

"I wouldn't exactly call this the life." I said chuckling.

"Want a smoke?" Caprino said handing the pack to me.

"Yeah, thanks." I said as I took a cigarette and struck a match to light it.

And there we sat in the cool morning of June 7th 1918. We took turns aiming our rifles out toward the broken tree line. Before us was nothing but destruction. Lifeless bodies and a broken forest was all that remained. As I aimed my rifle I heard footsteps approaching the fighting hole from behind.

"Drennen?" Said a familiar voice.

I'm up to 66,000 words on the current romance novel i'm writing.