Western Front Creative Writing

Under the thick cloak of night, in the heart of the jungle, the symphonic sound of rain hits the leaves. The air was thick and heavy, filled with the damp, musty smell of wet canvas and earth. The tent's floor was nothing more than a thin layer of canvas, which separated them from the mud. The sound of boots trudging through the muddy trenches and the chatter of soldiers could be heard from the distance. George sat alone in his tent as the lantern's dim glow cast eerie shadows against the tent's walls. He dipped the tip of the fountain pen into the ink bottle as he penned in cursive, “Dear Mom.” His eyes were glazed with hot tears as he began to write the letter, scrape it, and rewrite it once again. The tears locked deep inside his chest, clawing to get out. All the brightly plastered propaganda on the walls was now empty promises.

Gunshots echoed through the dense jungle. Sirens echoed throughout the camp and awoke Fred from his nap. George slowly popped his head out of the tent and heard the chatter of soldiers running across the trenches of the campsite. Fred slowly rose from the tattered tent, dragging his brother into the line of soldiers. They were standing there, their hearts thumping like drums. The tension filled the air with …show more content…
The dense jungle was slowly coming alive; each step felt like an ominous shadow was following. The jungle soon came to a sudden silence, and then shots were fired as the prey had become the predator. Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! The soldiers rushed to seek cover behind wooden trees and empty logs to dodge the bullets that whistled past their ears and pierced through the heavy and musty air. His breath became strained as he remained entrenched behind the thick foliage. Clumps of dark brown mud clung to the ragged bottom of his boots, and the edges of his khakis were drenched with the forest bed’s murky water. None of them dared to peek to see what had