sorry wasn't sure where to post this.
I have to write a creative piece for english on journeys. Im only in year 11 but we are doing a unit on journeys as preparation for next year. I havn't finished it yet but im having a bit of trouble. I really dont like creative writing. Im much more of an analytical person.
Anyone want to tell me what you think so far
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I ducked… just in time as a bullet whistled past above my head. I saw a shell lob about twelve yards away and it lifted two men clean up in the air for about 6 feet and then they simply dropped back dead. Sinking to my knees I rested my head in my hands breathing in the stench of decay, tears swelled in the corners of my eyes as I began to sob frenziedly. I crouched down watching as the exquisite orange sphere began to sink below the horizon. I knew our time was coming.
Beside me lay the body of my Brother, disintegrating, releasing into the surroundings of our trench the putrid perfume of three-day-old death. I hold his hand in mine for what may possibly be the last time. I curse at the flies, in millions gather over my brothers body feeding at his interiors. I am strangely aware of the eerie melancholy of my surroundings as my mates move around me in their zombie like trances, eyes glazed over, exhibiting no life. War had taken its toll; it had worn us down to this point where we no longer possessed the strength needed to fight the ever-enduring shadows that haunted our sanity. All hope had been lost; I knew we had reached our end.
Closing my eyes I can still picture the pride plastered across my mothers face when, both my twin brother, Graeme and I registered with the army. We were both eager for the chance of an adventure, to see and appreciate the world. Patriotism had spread nation wide and as many of my friends received feathers in the mail as symbols of their cowardliness I held my head high, proud to be fighting for my country. Throughout the months of training, spirits were still soaring, and as our ship departed the Aussie coast most were overcome with excitement, anticipation and enthusiasm. I had been entirely disillusioned.
The horrific nature of battle was to tear me down, day by day. The hours Graeme and I used to spend on my backyard swing, suspended between two adorned eucalypts seem now a distant memory. We would fly high… higher… and higher again until I felt I could reach the stars. To think we would ever return presently seems idiotic. We would never live, we would never love and we would never dream again of such an idyllic existence. Our future had been mapped.
3rd August 1915
Graeme got shot today…
Just outside the trench in the stomach with two bullets. He died groaning horribly. I killed his assailant, giving him five rounds in the head. I let him have it… that bastard killed by brother.
The death of Graeme became my moment of epiphany. He was not afraid to die for his country, and he got granted the ultimate gift, the gift of freedom.
I have to write a creative piece for english on journeys. Im only in year 11 but we are doing a unit on journeys as preparation for next year. I havn't finished it yet but im having a bit of trouble. I really dont like creative writing. Im much more of an analytical person.
Anyone want to tell me what you think so far
---------------------------------
I ducked… just in time as a bullet whistled past above my head. I saw a shell lob about twelve yards away and it lifted two men clean up in the air for about 6 feet and then they simply dropped back dead. Sinking to my knees I rested my head in my hands breathing in the stench of decay, tears swelled in the corners of my eyes as I began to sob frenziedly. I crouched down watching as the exquisite orange sphere began to sink below the horizon. I knew our time was coming.
Beside me lay the body of my Brother, disintegrating, releasing into the surroundings of our trench the putrid perfume of three-day-old death. I hold his hand in mine for what may possibly be the last time. I curse at the flies, in millions gather over my brothers body feeding at his interiors. I am strangely aware of the eerie melancholy of my surroundings as my mates move around me in their zombie like trances, eyes glazed over, exhibiting no life. War had taken its toll; it had worn us down to this point where we no longer possessed the strength needed to fight the ever-enduring shadows that haunted our sanity. All hope had been lost; I knew we had reached our end.
Closing my eyes I can still picture the pride plastered across my mothers face when, both my twin brother, Graeme and I registered with the army. We were both eager for the chance of an adventure, to see and appreciate the world. Patriotism had spread nation wide and as many of my friends received feathers in the mail as symbols of their cowardliness I held my head high, proud to be fighting for my country. Throughout the months of training, spirits were still soaring, and as our ship departed the Aussie coast most were overcome with excitement, anticipation and enthusiasm. I had been entirely disillusioned.
The horrific nature of battle was to tear me down, day by day. The hours Graeme and I used to spend on my backyard swing, suspended between two adorned eucalypts seem now a distant memory. We would fly high… higher… and higher again until I felt I could reach the stars. To think we would ever return presently seems idiotic. We would never live, we would never love and we would never dream again of such an idyllic existence. Our future had been mapped.
3rd August 1915
Graeme got shot today…
Just outside the trench in the stomach with two bullets. He died groaning horribly. I killed his assailant, giving him five rounds in the head. I let him have it… that bastard killed by brother.
The death of Graeme became my moment of epiphany. He was not afraid to die for his country, and he got granted the ultimate gift, the gift of freedom.
