Personal Narrative-Memoir Of War

A bang rang out. Marty heard a ringing emerging from his head. He jumped up as if he had been shocked by a defibrillator, frantically shaking his head too stop the loud alarm that was taking over his mind. The trench he was in was enclosing on him. It kept shrinking and shrinking. The dirt walls, covered by an immovable layer of blood was moving closer to him with every little movement he made. And then Marty coughed, coughed, and coughed. Vomit shot from his stomach like a blood coming out of a punctured artery. Marty used every bit of his strength to peek up above the blood stained wall of the trench. He saw a beautiful mountain scape, covered with tiny black balls that were getting closer with every breath he took. Suddenly they started

The yellow and orange beams of light hijacked Marty’s sight. He moved to regain his senses and looked around. He felt like as if someone had punctured his lungs and could not stop coughing. “You know you won't find any treasure!” Exclaimed an old friend happily while leaning against a moss covered stone pillar.

It was Lieutenant Dan. A very servile man, who never disagreed with an order. Every ancestor before him had died in some sort of war dating back to the revolution, and his job was to fight to the death in this one. He was a very tall man with beautiful blue eyes, like the sea during the summer. And his eyes brought a welcoming feeling with them because they reminded everyone fighting for the SR of what civilization was like before the war. Before the second depression. “How many did we lose?” Marty barely questioned as he wheezed

Marty was allowed to leave the medical tent and he meandered back to his dirt hut. He sat down and stared at the tally marks on his wall. Sometimes, Marty forgot what the war was even about. He would depressingly mark another tally on his wall of distress and sigh just thinking about his hopeless future. He was trapped by poverty. Its claws would slice him in half every day, causing endless torture. No matter what he tried to do to mend his future, it was hopeless. Marty once taught himself the story of Sisyphus, when he found a rich man’s book in a city that was raided. He would walk around his hopeless community and share the story over and over again, but change the ending so that Sisyphus finally got to the top of the