Thursday, May 12, 2016

100 Words a Day 849

The color of the land was mud. The viscous stuff at the bottom of the trench sucked at their moldy boots the way a child sucks on their favorite candy. It made traveling the miles of earthworks exhausting. Occasionally, a soldier’s fatigue would overcome their commonsense and they would scamper across the top of the line. Some of their bodies had yet to be retrieved. The dead-eyed soldiers had little time for corpses. Like their living comrades, they were uniformed by heavy mud. Those who were corpses rather than asleep were only distinguished from the living by the pecking buzzards.

No comments:

Post a Comment