My Submission:
How the Tides have Turned
https://docs.google.com/document/d/1o54XyQbTQzwUPVlHjspwm4yLBDTyGf7dy85KULAn4lU/edit?usp=sharing
6th of June, 1944
It wasn’t that long ago that I came to this place. We always came here as a get away from the busy life that we led back in the city, with father constantly working and mother starting her business; it was good to take a break. I remember rushing towards the water in my bare feet, the feeling of the gritty sand hitting me with each step. I remember the sound that the ocean made, lapping up against the shore in calm, soothing surges. In fact I even remember the smile that Hans had as he splashed in the small pools collected by the rocks, looking for small crabs and mussels.
I remember it all so well; but it seems it’s starting to fade. Today I still felt the sand, but this time it certainly wasn’t pleasant. It blew up from the beach and into my eyes and the air seemed to be laiden with it. I could still hear the water sloshing, but this time not against the shore, instead it splashed as thousands of heavy boots marched through it and thighs waded through the water. But the rocks, how they changed, no longer brown but red instead and the creatures that lay in the pools were no longer starfish or urchins.
But perhaps the most noticeable difference was the smell. I used to be able to smell the sea water and the fresh air… but today the singular thing I could smell was fear. I smelt it running off of me, it dripped from my quivering hands as I took aim and it dribbled down my shaking legs, rattling so much it was hard to walk. I couldn’t only smell it off myself however, I could smell it coming from them too. As they hopped from their metal war machines down into the water, the scent moved fast and it hit me quick, it wasn’t hard to see it on their faces either.
I remember one of them looked over to me just after he left the large vehicle and he stood frozen. At the time I couldn’t tell whether it was fear or whether he’d already been taken down, but I suppose it didn’t matter. By the look on his face I could tell that he was already dead inside. The rest of them marched on through the water and the sound changed, I can still hear that change ringing in my ears; it won’t go away. I looked down at the sand and no longer could I see the shells I once saw, but this time metal shells, firing out of the guns and hitting the ground with a crisp bite as the heat of the jacket boiled the water in the sand.
The guns seemed to endlessly fire and the shouts of our commanders didn’t stop either. They called for bombs to be shot into the waters, with a ‘boom’ following and then the screams of hundreds of men. It dragged on for so long, the torrent of shots and spill of blood seemed endless… It only stopped when I walked away. I know they’ll have one last bullet for me, running from a battle isn’t taken lightly, but on this Defining Day for the war, the only thing that defined me are the nightmares that I think I will always have.
Thanks for reading if you read it all, it’s pretty short but I thought I’d give a go at a shorter story ?