‘Peace by Death’ WW1 Flash Story

(NOTE: Some may find this material to be uncomfortable or disturbing, please do not read if you are easily triggered and find yourself in this situation.)

Covering my bleeding throat with damaged hands, the hail of gunfire ricochets over my head coming from both sides. It seems to never end.

The explosions of artillery are deafened by the dying screams of my charging brothers against the enemy.

Gnashing of teeth, slitting of throats and drowning each other in muddied water; they fight to the death with their fists and shovels in their disillusionment with the overlords.

The hazing of smoke slithers through this godforsaken hellhole, harsh to breathe and a reminder of serving in war with regret.

My friend is next to me, dead with a hole in his skull as he looks at me with a soulless thousand-yard stare.

There is no escape here. Either die a deserting coward or return home as a maddened soulless monster.

“For the King and your country’s freedom.” they say.

It’s over. There is no happy ending in the trenches, only guessing when it’s your turn to die.

I accepted it since those bastards killed my little brother; foolish child lied to fight here in France. He was only 13.

I failed to protect him from being ushered into the fields of mustard gas. His eyes reddened from choking on the yellow death. I buried him in dirt amongst a field of the fallen thousands.

No one leaves war being lucky. In any survivor, your soul dies as you roam as a tortured beast of war. Hellish flames of fire roar into my burning brothers near me.

With a Webley revolver I picked from a dead officer, I place it to my head taking my final breath.