I have for a while been getting this writing bug, I love to read and turning my hand to writing is something that I really enjoy. However I am a man of math and science. English has never been one of my strong points.
This is something that I have been working on bit by bit for a few months and i finally have it in a state that I wouldn't mind showing it to someone else. If it's terrible please let me know honestly, I enjoy writing but I'm well aware I might not have a great talent for it.
It is as yet untitled, it's more a concept idea for a prologue from a larger fantasy story.
The rumbling began again, within the bunker it was a faintly felt warning of the bombardment taking place overhead. Jonas looked around himself at the faces of the men, most didn’t meet his eye. They were distracted, filled with thoughts of family and home.
“Another great mess you’ve gotten us into Jone!” came a voice from the bunk below.
“Oh of course you blame me! Mark, you’re a real ass, you know?”
“I know Jone” he chuckled back, but the faked mirth was short lived. They knew their situation was grave at best.
Silence settled over the barracks once again and as ever Jonas' thoughts began to wander. He remembered signing up with Mark in the local recruitment office eight long years ago, they had been firm friends since that day. The objective had been to capture the small German town of Moed, But things had not gone well. The enemy had been too well prepared and had cut them off from reinforcement. Worse, they had cut them off from retreat. The abandoned bunker was holding up surprisingly well under the onslaught of enemies relentless fire, their supplies weren't. Out of rations and with ammunition supplies running low the order for a retreat attempt had come as expected.
Jonas' attention snapped back to the room as the heavy steel door swung open and men scrambled to their feet to stand at attention. The massive frame of Colonel Johnson blocked the doorway and he had to stoop to enter, his face was grim set and he gruffly told the men to stand at ease.
“As you are all well aware men” he barked “we will be retreating after this round of ground pounders has ended. The good news is that some heavy fog has rolled over in the last hour so we have good cover, pack your things and be ready, god speed.” The men stood as if dazed while the colonel left the room, until the metallic boom of the door slamming shut shook them from their reverie. The room then became a bustling hive of shouts and calls. Jonas looked at Mark who was emptying out his pack.
“Hey where we're going we don't need much huh?”
“I guess you're right” Jonas turned to him “Listen Mark..”
Mark interrupted “don't Jo, I know what you are going to say and well you know you are like a brother to me”.
“You” Jonas stopped, the words hung unsaid between them, more than soldiers, more than friends, they were brothers and words were unnecessary. Jonas nodded and shouldered his pack.
*** *** *** *** ***
The Colonel was right the fog really was thick, it hung like a shroud around Mark’s shoulders a few paces ahead. In a 2 man column they trudged slowly through the forest. The fog limiting vision to the man directly ahead or to the side. It was oppressive, anything could be out there, mere feet away and Jonas would never see it. Then a whistle came, starting faint and quickly growing louder.
“Get down! Take Cover!” a yell out of the murk was followed immediately by a blinding flash and explosion which lit up the fog like a bulb. The soldier beside Jonas stumbled into him and bundled him over as the ranks scattered to nearby trees for cover. A pair of hands dragged Jonas behind a tree as another explosion erupted where the column had just been marching. Gun fire rattled and buzzed over head tearing chunks of bark off of the trees. Jonas got to his feet and started moving, he was disorientated and unsure which way he should be heading. No one was in sight and the sounds of battle were all around him, he thought he heard American voices ahead and lifting his rifle he broke into a trot.
He came to a clearing in the trees, it seemed there had been some sort of station here, a radio mast and controls lay abandoned, a nearby generator had been hit with an explosive, a grenade from the looks of things. The bodies of the defending enemy soldiers lie almost serenely in the quiet of the fog. Not far away a shout came and the crack of rifle fire. Cautiously Jonas approached and just beyond the clearing he could see some soldiers engaged in close quarter combat. One of them was Mark.
Mark was wounded, his leg was bleeding, he'd been hit by a bullet or shrapnel he wasn't sure which, he'd been about to treat himself when a pair of the enemy soldiers had stumbled right on top of him, he had managed to get a shot off at the first one before grabbing a hold on the second and now he found himself in a knife grapple, except he was still unarmed. He desperately fought to keep the soldiers blade away from him.
Jonas couldn't get a clear shot at the man Mark was fighting and two more soldiers were running across towards the pair. He lifted his rifle and fired, one of the men fell. He fired again, but nothing happened his rifle was jammed! Jonas leapt into a sprint just as the man reached the grappling pair and hauled Mark away from his opponent. Mark fell onto his back and Jonas knew he couldn’t close the gap in time. A desperate surging panic overwhelmed him. The soldier who had pulled Mark off of his compatriot pulled a pistol from his holster and levelled it at Mark. Jonas stopped running and stretched his hands out towards his friend, his brother.
"No! Mark!” He screamed. His world span, his eyes lost focus and he dropped to his knees. A streaking bolt of blue lightning crashed into the gun holders chest and flung him into the fog.
Jonas drunkenly stared at his smouldering hands and all he could think of was how beautiful the bolt had been as blackness enveloped him.