I know painters paint it, composers play it, actors can act it...but what can writer's do?
Well, we can tell it in a story, we can convey it in a play, we can sing it in lyrics, and we can illustrate it in poems.
But, for the moment I am not a painter, a composer, an actor, or a writer...but I can explain it the only way I know how...
Love is: Frustratingly magnificent while also terribly unique. Confusing and intriguing, and can also leave you weak. Menacingly wonderful if not also specially designed, All emotions put together, but right now they are all mine. Rivaling with a person whom I've never seen before, knowing that no matter what; I will always love him more. Daunting and perilous, but sweet and caring too, A feeling of elation when it means so much to you. A dance A song A rhythm in rhyme. A feeling that can and will always transcend time. The moment of that passing glance; The crazy feeling of being lost in a trance.... The daydream of the soul's song, The triumph and the elation, when other's think it's wrong. The counterpoint, the notes you sing That one important idyllic dream. That sickening feeling of despair. As if you wonder why it was ever there. The anger and the hate; So overpowering it's hard to contemplate. That moment of desire. A stage in which your soul's on fire. The pivotal turn. The point in which your heart will burn. The chance you have for your spirit to be sold. Wanting only to have him to hold. The night in which your conscious cries Impossible tears that you despise. That ache of knowing that he's not there, A feeling that he can't be found anywhere. Believing, that, with all your might. Seeing him in your dreams that night. Sometimes more than you could ever say, certainly more than this little poem could every convey... Love is....
Any physical ailments/illnesses/disabilities: She took a bullet to the shoulder, and it sometimes gets cranky.
Any medication regularly taken: None.
Personality: Generally, she's nice to people who she feels are deserving, and belligerent to those who aren't(unless they're some sort of authority person, and could make her life hell if she got on their bad side). However, she has a quick temper and isn't afraid of starting fist fights with certain individuals. She is somewhat quiet and doesn't share her feelings easily. She enjoys comic books, re-reading beloved stories and silently fangirling over Gambit.
Disliked food: Mole Rat meat, Dog meat(refuses to try it).
Disliked drinks: Moonshine (it kicks her ass), Wine.
HOUSE AND HOME
Describe the character's house/home: Megaton house is decorated with the Pre-war theme. Special additions include a Grognak poster, and others recovered from the Hubris place. Some guns recovered along the way are hung on the walls, and books and pre-war toys are stuck where ever there is space atop things. The Jukebox is rarely turned off. In New Vegas, she doesn't have a permanent home, yet (the Lucky 38 isn't hers.. yet XD)
Significant/special belongings: Her Comic books, though some are bittersweet reminders of lost friendships and her Dad. Her Photograph collection is the same. Her baseball, glove and bat are reminders of one of her favorite Vault activities. The Abe action figure, because it's damn cool.
Level of education: Vault equivalent of High School.
Qualifications: Repairing certain types of machinery, Pip-boys, and guns.
Current job title and description: Mercenary/Scavenger. Courier(Yeah, that went well XD).
Name of employer: Whoever offers a suitable job, though she does end up working with Reilly's Rangers for a few years, after the events of the main quest.
Peaceful or aggressive attitude? Aggressive. However, she won't kill a foe unless they're carrying a gun, and can potentially kill her before she can get to them.
Fighting skills/techniques: Good with punches and kicks. Her aim with a gun is pretty good, too. In situations that call for either life or death, she will snipe as many as she can.
Special skills/magical powers/etc: N/A
Weapon of choice (if any): Scoped rifle or 10mm, Grenades, Baseball Bat.
Weaknesses in combat: She is clumsy with most melee-type weapons and blocking hits, and can become overconfident. Certain now-healed injuries still give her trouble, and can cripple her if they receive a good hit.
Strengths in combat: She's quick and can hold her own against most male foes. She also knows where to punch to best disable a foe, but will rarely resort to crotch kicks.
FAMILY, FRIENDS AND FOES
Parents names: James and Catharine.
Are parents alive or dead? Both are deceased.
Is the character still in contact with their parents? If they weren't dead, she would be.
Siblings? Relationship with siblings? No official ones.
Other Important Relatives: Lucy Palmer and Herman Gomez. They may not have been officially related, but Lucy was like a grandmother figure, and Herman was something of an uncle.
Best Friend: Baraka, Amata, until she banned Kayla from the Vault. Butch is her new BFF.
Other Important Friends: Charon, Julian, Baraka, Veronica, Cass, Andrés, Reilly and the Rangers, Sarah Lyons, Freddie, Beetle, Knives
Pets: Sparky, the Radroach. Dogmeat & Rex.
Enemies? Why are they enemies? Colonel Autumn - for his interference in Project Purity, and being the cause for James to sacrifice himself. Benny - he shot her in the head >:I.
Backstory: This is the part I suck at, so I'll add it later, maybe XD.
I was pretty bored, so I felt like making this. (To the tune of 'Marukaite Chikyuu', the Axis Powers Hetalia ending song) ---
Hey, hey people, look at the sky~! What do you see? What do you see? A thousand gods, or maybe one? Or maybe you just see me!
The birds in the sky, the fish in the sea~! Did you make those? Or was that me? The birds in the sky, the fish in the sea~! I'm Atheism~!
The birds in the sky, the fish in the sea~! I'm sure you made those...no wait, was it me? Maybe it was something higher than we? I'm Atheism~!
Oh~! Life's beginning, no one really knows how it happened~! Maybe one day...we can all co-ex-ist~! I'm Atheism~!!
Ah~ah! Scientology! Please...stop dressing like me!
The birds in the sky, the fish in the sea~! Did you make those, or was that me? The birds in the sky, the fish in the sea~! I'm Atheism~!!
The birds in the sky, the fish in the sea~! I'm sure you made those...no wait, was it me? Maybe it was something higher than we? I'm Atheism~!
Oh~! Life's beginning, no one really knows how it happened~! Ohh-Ohh, Ahh-Ahh! *Monkey sounds* Maybe one day...we can all co-ex-ist~! I'm Atheism~!!
Hey hey people, wanna know the truth? Well according to my calculations...HEY! DON'T IGNORE ME! Hey hey people, I respect your beliefs! Hey hey Christianity, (please leave me alone now!) Hey hey people, look at the stars! What do you see? What do you see? A thousand gods, or just one?
SCIENCE~! DARWIN~! EVOLUTION~!
God bless the human mind~!
*music break, Atheist's music sounds like the sounds of a science lab. (Electric sparks, test tubes clinking, monkey sounds, machines beeping, ect.)*
The birds in the sky, the fish in the sea~! Did you make those, or was that me? The birds in the sky, the fish in the sea~! I'm Atheism~!!
Oh~! Life's beginning, no one really knows how it happened~! Maybe one day...we can all co-ex-ist~! I'm Atheism~!!
Oh~! Life's beginning, I think I might know how it happened~! Maybe one day...we can all co-ex-ist~! I'm Atheism~!!
On May 1st 2007, the late Christopher Hitchens released the book "God is not great: How religion poisons everything". Judging by his writings, the title was not just a sensationalist attempt at increasing sales, but the genuine sentiment of its author. Having immersed myself in the subject of religion contra reality, the influence it has, I lean towards Hitchens' side- religion appears harmful to me, doing more ill than good to society at large.
Religion is, in the world at large, probably the greatest yoke any country, civilization or ethnicity faces when trying to progress, to move forwards. It creates division, isolation between groups, inspires hate where there would be none before. Religion narrows the mind. It creates division, clouds judgment and endorses intolerance. To quote Richard Dawkins: "I oppose religion... because it teaches people to be satisfied with an incomplete explanation of how the world works." In March 2009, Pope Benedict XVI announced at his visit in Africa that condoms make worse the AIDS problem. This statement highlights the magnitude of harm religion can cause. Pope Benedict XVI's words represent perfectly the destructive power irrational belief, superstition has. Simply because the Catholic Church considers semen holy, the Africans must suffer.
Or, to further my point on religiously inspired xenophobia, let us view the gaping sore that is Palestine. For generations now Jew has fought Arab and Arab has fought Jew, because both are convinced god promised them this land. At this point, Yahweh seems to have given no favour to either side- imagine how much easier the process of integration would have been if not for the mullahs and rabbis preaching their alleged absolute right to this land, as mandated by an unseen god.
The number of religiously inspired zealots who would go so far as to harm or kill you for the sake of their beliefs thankfully represents a negligible portion of the religious populations of the world. The dangers of religion are far more subtle, far more sinister. I would refer here to what may be the most immediate threat in terms of religious follies: creationism, and more specifically the attempts its adherents make to teach their unsubstantiated beliefs as scientific. Originally a phenomenon best known from the southern states of the USA, the creationist movement is active and alive, and insidiously snaking its way through Europe as well. Though they thankfully represent a vocal- if obnoxious- minority, the fact that they have any impact at all is worrying. Hiding behind the pretext of religious freedom, they wish to impose on the susceptible minds of the youth superstition as science. They reject the scientific theory of evolution, which is based on mountains of evidence, in favour of "Intelligent Design", based explicitly on the unfalsifiable idea of a creator. "Teach the controversy" is a common slogan. In my opinion, this is absurd- there is no controversy in the scientific community regarding evolution. The overwhelming majority of the scientific community adheres to the theory of evolution. The science classroom deals with science- the creationists can bring in only matters of faith. Whether god is real or not is irrelevant in such a context as that of a science classroom- only the tangible, the falsifiable is dealt with there. We did not advance to the point where we can send satellites into space by looking at the unexplained, going "god did it".
Religious people is by many said to bring comfort, that churches raise money for the poor. What of the many charities the churches boast, the money it raises for the poor? What of the sense of security it brings to those miserable and unsatisfied with their lives? Why would anybody wish them robbed of this? Commonly, the theists argue that without god, there is no greater purpose, no point to living or being alive. Further, the theistic apologists like to endorse the idea that somehow belief makes man more moral, more inclined to charity and kindness. Some even postulate that a lack of religious guidance leads to disaster- a common argument is that Stalin, Mao and Pol Pot were the heads of atheistic regimes that their lack of belief led to the atrocities committed. These are interesting questions, and some of them may have some merit- but at a closer glance, I would say that this amounts to an appeal to emotion rather than a question of fact.
If we first address comfort: yes, the belief in a god can cause a very real feeling of well-being, happiness, even euphoria. Believing can make you happy. So can a security blanket. The reality of the joy you might experience does not make the ideas endorsed any more or less true. In the words of Bertrand Russel, "The fact that a believer is happier than an unbeliever is no more to the point than a drunken man being happier than a sober one".
The happiness, though real, ceases to be harmless once it causes people to judge others for not adhering to ones own personal beliefs. This is where religion creates division- by claiming it has all the answer, the perfect answers, that all other answers are inferior; that all who disagree are therefore morally inferior or simply corrupt. What about charity, then? The various churches are responsible for much good- but this is not unique to the churches at all, nor do I need to be guilted into donating money by some god. I could just as easily donate to a secular charity. The church, with the tithes it gathers from its many believers worldwide, certainly has the resources. The humanitarian effort is just that- humanitarian. All religions, all people have an urge to help; it is an instinct. No church is required.
What about the idea of life being meaningful only with the idea of a god in it? This argument falls on its own arrogance- evidently, the atheist can live an equally fulfilled, satisfied life without even a hint of belief in the juju at the mountain. This can be, and has been tested. Perhaps the religious need a god to make their lives meaningful; to claim this is universal fails on logical grounds.
What about morality? This is possibly the most self-important argument the theistic side has to offer. If morality is derived only out of fear of being denied eternal bliss, then it is not really morality to begin with. We, as human beings, do right because it is right, not because we are afraid of what will happen if we do not.
In conclusion, I would like to assert that religion, though having some fine points- it is deeply linked to all of our cultures, responsible for much charity- does more harm than it does good. It provides comfort, but it also creates division, retards scientific progress, incites xenophobia and gets privileges for superstitions it cannot prove. I do not deny people the right to believe- indeed, religion will last as long as there are humans left to believe. However, religion must be kept private. It must never be given special treatment or allowances where other interests would not, and it should never be allowed a say in politics or education.
In Pamplona, Spain, the people may be running from bulls, but the bulls are only chasing them because Deadpool put red dye in all of their shampoos this morning.
Deadpool sleeps on an adamantium bed because titanium was just too soft.
Crop circles are Deadpools way of freaking conspiracy nuts out.
Deadpool is over six feet tall, weighs two hundred twenty pounds, and can tell Wolverine to fuck off while patting the top of his head and rubbing his stomach.
They built the Great Wall of China to tell Deadpool that he wasnt welcome there. He didnt take the hint.
Contrary to popular belief, Deadpool, not the box jellyfish of northern Australia, is the most venomous creature on earth. Within 3 minutes of being bitten, a human being experiences the following symptoms: bloating, constipation, and the strange feeling that they have just been on a late night talk show, and the host just didnt know when to shut up.
If he you ask Deadpool what time it is, hell laugh at you.
Deadpool drives an ice cream truck with a machine gun on top.
When Deadpool sends in his taxes, he sends a box. This box contains an armed explosive that will detonate in ten seconds after they open the box. Like Deadpool would ever pay taxes.
Deadpool can win a game of connect four in one move, because he cheats.
There is no theory of evolution. Just a list of living creatures that Deadpool forgot to kill.
Deadpool once at a 72 oz. bag of cheese puffs in one hour. He spent the first forty-five minutes having sex with the girl behind the counter ON the counter.
Deadpool doesnt churn butter. He tells Spider-Man to do it by saying that its the right thing to do.
Deadpool doesnt wash his clothes. He makes Weasel do it by saying if you dont, Ill kill you.
If you spell Deadpool in Scramble, you get that creepy feeling that someone is watching you.
Fool me once, shame on you. Fool Deadpool once, and hell kick you in the crotch. If youre lucky.
Deadpool has two speeds: Talk and Kill.
Once someone asked Deadpool what was on his mind. Historians have recorded this as the worst mistake anyone has ever made.
Everyone has to die once. Unless your Deadpool, then you have to die five times at least.
Deadpool doesnt take showers, and he only baths if Bea Arthur and wine are involved.
In an average living room there are 1,242 objects Deadpool could use to kill you, including the room itself. Fortunately, no one has told Deadpool this.
Deadpool has to re-grow 2,000 body parts a year. If its a slow year.
Deadpool has a recording of himself talking for two hours. He sold it to the interrogation squads of most major militaries for a hefty profit.
Deadpool DOESNT believe its not butter.
A picture is worth a thousand words. Deadpool is worth one billion. Too bad none of them are worth anything.
When Deadpool talks, nobody listens. They die.
Deadpool knows the exact location of Carmen SanDiego, and will sell the information to the highest bidder.
When taking the SAT, write Deadpool for every answer. Youll fail.
Deadpool invented black. In fact, he invented the whole spectrum of colors. Except for pink. Wolverine invented pink.
Chuck Norris and Deadpool walked into a bar. The bar was instantly destroyed, as that much awesome cannot be contained in one building.
Deadpool doesnt believe in the X-Men.
Some people wear Spider-Man pajamas. Spider-Man wears Deadpool pajamas.
I dont own Deadpool, but if I did, three years from now if I asked you who Spider-Man was, youd say Spider-Who?
Deadpool was once hired by a school to give a speech about why kids shouldnt drop out of school. When he got on stage, he talked about the positive effects of pornography in todays society and the different variations of yellow and orange you might find on both rubber duckies and dildos. Then he remembered why he was there, took his mask off, pointed to his face, and said, This is why you should stay in school, you damned punks.
No one who heard this message even thought about dropping out of school ever again.
When Deadpool goes to McDonalds, he orders sushi. When they say they cant give him any, he gives them more than their daily-recommended dose of bullets. When Deadpool wants raw fish wrapped in seaweed, he gets it, or else.
Deadpool doesnt sleep- he procrastinates.
Deadpool makes Apple pay him 99 cents every minute he allows them to live.
If you have five dollars and Deadpool has five dollars, hell steal your five dollars so that he has more money than you.
There is no Ctrl button on Deadpools computer. He ate it.
Some people can kill two birds with one stone, but Deadpool can kill twenty penguins with one shot.
Deadpool doesnt have blood. He is filled with bullshit.
Deadpool doesnt melt in your mouth or in your hand. Unless you happen to be Beatrice Arthur.
Deadpool is like a dog: He gets mud all over the carpet, annoys the neighbors, humps your leg and pisses where ever he wants to.
Proponents of higher-order theories of consciousness argue that the relation between two levels of mental states in which a higher-order mental state takes another mental state explains consciousness. If you tell this to Deadpool, hell shoot you for no reason at all.
Life is not, in fact, like a box of chocolates. It is more like a box of Deadpool. You may not know what youre going to get, but you know it will be painful, and youll laugh anyway.
Everything King Midas touches turns to gold. Everything Deadpool touches goes insane and dies in a suicidal rage.
Deadpool wipes his ass with Cyclops secret stash of pornographic magazines.
They where going to release a Deadpool addition of clue, but the answer always turned out to be Deadpool. In the library. With a knock-knock joke.
When Spider-Man read Deadpools original series, he cried himself to sleep. The next day he went out as Peter Parker to burn as many of them as he could find, for fear that Deadpool would become more popular than Spider-Man. This is why they are so hard to find.
My friend Angelie is extremely lazy and cannot be bothered to write her own poem, and me, in my charitable state, decided to help her out. Actually, I didnt pay much attention to what had to be done, so if this is wrong: write your own!
I wanted to write something like this anyway- its sposed to be like the 10 Things I Hate About You one, although, I realise, that this can never be replaced.
I love the way your eyes always shine, I love the way you wont let go, I love the way you tell me you're mine, I love the way it's easy to show, That most of all, I just love you.
It's true, I love every inch of you, I'll love you when it's hard to sleep, When my thoughts are shades of blue, I'll love you even when the blue skies weep, And our garden burns around us.
I dont know what I would ever do, If I made you ever cry, I never want to ever hurt you, I dont want this to ever die, And I dont want you to ever frown.
I'm so weak when I am with you, One look and your eyes paralyze, I'm no one else when I'm around you, I dont need a masking false disguise, Because I trust you most of all.
Red and pink and white lined tradition, Symbolize the greatest emotion, Valentine's day is but a transition, Another good way to show my devotion, To you and us and even the blue, Anything as long as It is with you.
I’m going to make A teenage mistake And prove to everyone this life Can be a fun path to take So grab my hand And I’ll whisper into your ear ‘lets stop the sands of time And show the world what we’re made of’ As longs as what could happen Doesn’t matter And you love me as I love you One kiss will seal our fate Your arms are warm All we have is tonight We’ll make this worthwhile And remember it forever. Regret can be healed by time As can pain for the future But if we can make this time wonderful We can forget about the rest of our life So lets make a teenage mistake Close your eyes And follow me And I’ll see you tomorrow.
These damn trenches, I swear to God. Nothing but mud and rotting corpses. Hell, I even saw a rat feasting on one of the corpses. It was horrible and disgusting to witness, I say. First off, if anyone finds this if I am dead, my name is Private Alfred D. Charles. I'm 18 years of age. I was born in London, England on April 19th, 1898. I am in the British Armed Forces, obviously. I am in the Northern part of the Somme River, where we are fighting those sausage eating* bastards. Right now, its a hot and clear day. Those Huns* will never stop shooting at us. I managed to return fire today as I heard a yelp in the distance; probably an unexpected Hun to be killed. But after I managed fire a shot at him, he never returned fire. Lets just say that's my first kill. Another soldier next to me patted me on the back, saying "Good work, Private. That's one we don't need!" We both gave a good laugh. For the first time, I actually felt real pride in me. I don't know why. Maybe for the better cause? I'm not sure. But what I am sure of is not getting trench foot*. The looks and hears of it are just bad. For now, I am going to check my feet everyday. Also word is breaking out that Sir Roger Casement was hanged today*. Treason at its worst? Its best to rather focus out there than in my beloved homeland. God be with me. ~Alfred
August 4th, 1916
We managed to get to the German Second Line system. Thank God I am alive. I nearly got shot at many times. Its very difficult to watch the Huns shooting at you and watching your allies getting killed. Somehow I made it. Somehow, most soldiers did. I love my bayonet*. I killed four Huns with it. They screamed for mercy, but we didn't give them any. Makes me put a smile on my face whenever I think of it. Anyways, counter attacks from the Huns at Verdun are repulsed, thank God. Hopefully, we can hold them off for a good period of time. Time will tell. ~Alfred
August 7th, 1916
We attacked on the outskirts of Guillemont. I did get a few kills. I even injured one of those damn Huns. When I was about to put him out of his miserable life, an officer blew his guts out with his C96*. He then looked at me and said "Nothing to see here, lad. You got other things to worry about than this." Then he spat on the lifeless corpse and gave orders to other soldiers. I just stood there, staring at the corpse for a good minute. He looked young, very young. I got bumped behind me, hearing a Frenchman say "Move!" I snapped back into reality and moved toward my given position. I can't get that soldier's face out of my mind. I'm gonna have trouble with sleeping tonight. I regret living. ~Alfred
August 8th, 1916
Fighting. We continued fighting in Guillemont, capturing The Station, and the northern parts of the village. Makes me wonder why we're not capturing the Southern part. I shouldn't question orders. My officers would be frustrated with me. In fact, many officers are already frustrated, constantly giving orders to many recruits to where their positions are. That's where I made a mate*. (Note: A strange thing about me is that I like to write down conversations. I am good at remembering what people have to say.) "Howdy, lad." said a new recruit. He looked very young, maybe about the same age as I am. He had brown hair with green eyes. His teeth were nice and white, unlike any of the other people here. "Uhh.... howdy?" I replied in confusion. He might have thought that I was thinking that he's a strange fellow. "I'm Malcolm. Malcolm E. White." He puts out his hand. Without thinking, I just shook it, saying 'Alfred'. "Well its splendid meeting another fellow, right? Perhaps after this war, we can have a nice little chat with some tea." "Indeed." I said, acting interested in his sentence. "You look worried." "I'm perfectly fine. Of course I'm worried!" "Should I be worried?" He asked in curiosity. I start to become suspicious, but I let out a smile. "You're kidding with me, right?" We both gave a big laugh. That's how we became mates. I got to admit, I'm happy having a mate with me in this type of scenario. I really am. Ever since I was fighting, I was just lonely. Nobody wanted to talk to me in the trenches, nobody wanted to share a pint* with me, or even wanted to let me shoot with them. But with Malcolm on my side, I feel like that my family is with me. But how long will be last? ~Alfred
August 9th, 1916
Nothing much to say about today. Just had a good conversation with Malcolm as we shared a half filled cup of pint. Our renewed Allied attacks on Guillemont failed. This is going to be a struggle for us. ~Alfred
August 10th, 1916
Heavy raining and low clouds today. The water is up to my ankles now. It makes me and Malcolm think we're going to drown if this continues. News around the trench made me excited as King George the V visits the front. Meeting the King himself.... that would be a once in a lifetime experience. Me shaking his hand.... having a short conversation with him. I need to stop daydreaming. ~Alfred
August 11th, 1916
Damn Huns dropped gas*. They only fired one shot towards us. Malcolm and I immediately put on our gas masks*. Fourteen soldiers died, including an officer. It was so depressing watching them suffocate. I teared up, but Malcolm snapped me out of it. We ran a few miles from the gas they dropped. The gas cleared up for one hour. I came back to see the dead. Malcolm just ran away to vomit. I felt the urge to vomit as well. A soldier talked to me a few yards away. "Sickening, ehh?" He sounded very grim. He looks about in his 40's. He has a beard grown and he has a scar on his left eye. His teeth were yellow as corn. He had dark, brown eyes. "Yes." I said, stuttering. "Son, you need to get used to life around here. This stuff happens daily." "Yes sir!" I was shaking to my knees. He then slapped my right cheek. "Snap out of it!" He ordered. "YES SIR!" I suddenly stopped shaking and stuttering. I can't thank him enough for that. A long silence occurred. "How long have you been around here?" He questioned. "Since July 28th, sir!" "You need guts to survive here. And I mean a LOT of guts." Now he is starting to sound more grim. "Understood, sir!" I tried to hide the fear in my voice. "Hmm.... Private Alfred D. Charles?" I was surprised he knew my name. "Yes sir." I began to calm down. He lightly chuckles. I smelt smoke from his breath. "That last name of yours reminds me of my father. Love that old man." A smile grew to little on his face. "Sergeant Vincent T. Dickens. If you need me, I'll be over there, smoking a fag*." He walked away slowly. I watched him as he sits down and takes his time for having a smoke. Guess he wants to enjoy every second of it. Malcolm came up to me and says that he killed over 150 Afghans in the Second Anglo-Afghan War*. "If I were you, I wouldn't mess with him. I heard he kills people with his bare hands." More mates are to be made if I survive longer. I need them. ~Alfred
August 13th, 1916
Its windy today. Life in the trenches are common. Vincent drinks his pint. Malcolm and I keep talking. Rats eat the dead. Speaking of rats, I woke up in a disturbed fashion. A damned rat was on me. I let out a scream and punched the life out of it. It never got up, making me think I killed it. How long was it on me? Did it bite me? I had Malcolm check, and in relief, the rat did not bite me. I'm never sleeping on the floor again. Never. But there is something I am not comfortable with here in the trenches. No, its not just the bad quality of life here or having rats eat you. Its something else. I heard a moan last night. I stayed up for twenty minutes to hear if there was another one. Turns out it was my imagination. Or is it? I shouldn't over think about this. I got more things to worry about. ~Alfred
August 15th, 1916
The King left for England, where he should be. Glad he isn't assassinated by a Hun or bitten by a rat, that's for sure. Its raining hard tonight. I'm soaked from running to cover in the trenches. Its even flooding the damn place. Bloody Hell. Malcolm is shivering while Vincent drinks a pint and smokes a fag. I asked them if they also heard a moan while most soldiers were sleeping. Turns out it wasn't my imagination. Vincent said he heard a moan while he was cleaning his Lee-Metford*. Malcolm said that he heard a moan while he was drying his helmet. Something isn't right here... ~Alfred
August 19th, 1916
We gained ground! We're at the Thiepval Ridge area. Thank God Vincent, Malcolm and I made it over. Going through No Man's-Land* might as well be walking through the gates of hell looking for ice. Now I'm more worried than ever, not counting the Huns, but it was about the moaning we've heard. I heard a few more moans when I was sleeping. A soldier woke up with anger and went outside with a Webley*. More stranger thing was that the soldier didn't come back. All we heard was a gunshot and a scream. Everyone was terrified to go outside. Its not just because of this strange thing going on, but its also the Huns that would kill us on sight. The next morning, Malcolm went searching for the soldier, but all he found was a few fingers as if someone or something chewed on them were laying in a pool of blood, as red as velvet, with his Webley on the side. Malcolm brought me out to see it, and as I gazed down on it, all I could think of was how that someday could be me. ~Alfred
August 20th, 1916
I'm hiding. I don't know where Malcolm or Vincent are. Damn Huns counter-attacked us. The moment I saw a Hun running straight for us, I picked up my Lee-Enfield* and shot the bastard down. But as soon as I saw more of them coming, the more I panicked, trying to shoot more of them. They got their bayonets ready. Soldiers began shooting at them. I saw Malcolm manning a Lewis gun*. He was shouting at them to die. I went and hide like a coward. A few minutes later, I heard screaming of retreat and pain. A Hun came in the place of where I was hiding. At first, he sounded demanding. "What?" I asked in confusion. Now he was getting more angry. "I don't speak your language, mate." The Hun put his bayonet on my chest. That's when I saw my 'savior'. "Behind you." I said calmly. A bloodied corpse walked towards the Hun and grabbed him viciously. He screamed with fear. And it started eating him. I watched helplessly as it took chunks of flesh off of his neck. Slowly he was dying. I grabbed his Gewehr 88* and shot both the bloodied corpse and the Hun. I dropped it with freight. I looked out the trench to see if there were anymore Huns in the area. The invading Huns were patrolling the trench. I looked around for a hiding spot. There, I found a square shaped hole in the wall, which is where I am hiding. Now, if only someone would rescue me. ~Alfred
August 24th, 1916
Hungry. Moaning. Hungry. Moaning. Hungry. Moaning. Hungry. I ate a page of this journal. Tastes funny. ~Alfred
August 25th, 1916
Oh thank the lord! Vincent, Malcolm and a squadron did a risky job on rescuing me. I was too weak to run, but I tried to. I nearly fainted until a soldier had to carry me. I ate two ration packs. Two! Sure it is boring, but I need to survive anyway. Vincent told me that there were corpses walking in the trenches that I was in. So, we are back in Guillemont. Thinking back to what Vincent told me, I couldn't believe it. I must be hallucinating. ~Alfred
August 27th, 1916
Italy declared war on the Huns today*. Hopefully they will supply us with spaghetti. ~Alfred
August 28th, 1916
Bringing up that its been a month since I've been in trench warfare. Nothing special. ~Alfred
August 30th, 1916
Things are getting worse in the trenches here*. Its getting more muddy and wet. And here's a strange thing to report: when I was looking for Huns, I saw a slowly walking person dressed up as a Hun. He was covered in blood with his left arm missing. Moaning was heard in the distance. I immediately got Malcolm over to look at, and he said "Kill it." I fired at its chest. No effect. I fired at its leg. Fell, but not stopping. Finally, I shot its head. Fell dead. Note to self: Aim for the Head. ~Alfred
September 1st, 1916
We got out of Guillemont. Turns out that the conditioning there is horrible. Not only that, but Vincent ordered us to meet other soldiers over at Delville Wood*. It took us a couple of hours to get there. We were greeted by South Africans. But ignoring of what the Lance Corporal had to say to us, I took a look around Delville Wood. This place used to be beautiful and lifelike. But everything here is destroyed. Death and sadness surrounded the air. This place is nothing but ruins, as if it was a scar that would never leave Earth. "ALFRED, LETS GO!" cried out Vincent as I cut out from looking around. I followed Vincent and the rest, witnessing miles and miles of destruction. We soon entered the woods, its was horrible to look at all of the trees burnt down to the ground. "You heard the Lance Corporal. Find any survivors; weather its a Hun or one of us. Go!" Ordered Vincent. I searched the Eastern part of the destroyed forest. While finding any human remains, I heard a moan. Alarmed, I raised my weapon up. I walked slowly with caution towards the noise. When I came up to it, it was a person dressed in a British uniform. It was trapped under a tree; crushing its legs. It tried to grab me, but failed to do so. I stared at it for a long time. How helpless it is. How meaningless it is. How horrible it is. I raised my Lee-Enfield at it and executed it. Releasing a good chuckle, I walked away from it. But... something didn't feel right. I heard footsteps and moans. More alert than last time, I raised my weapon up again, this time aiming at all directions. Suddenly, one came out of nowhere, dressed as a Hun. Releasing a scream, I shot its head, seeing its brains splat onto a tree. Another one came out at me, this time dressed as a South African. I didn't fire a shot, but I fled. I ran and ran through the damaged forest. I heard more moaning and footsteps and moaning and footsteps. I couldn't focus on where I was running as I focused on the noise. I soon tripped on a branch. Watching as a bunch of them walk up towards me, Huns and Allied, coming straight for me, about to end my beloved life. I tried getting up, but rather felt a huge pain on my upper leg. A cut. Blood spewed right out of it. I managed to get up and ran a few more yards after falling again. I realized no matter how much I tried, this is the end of my life. All I did was look up at the walking dead and waited for the end. I closed my eyes. That's when I heard a gunshot. It was Malcolm. Vincent came and escorted me out of the forest. Malcolm kept firing at the walking dead as one by one dropped finally dead. "You alright, lad?" said Vincent. "Yeah..." "Did you not listen to the Lance Corporal?" Malcolm said to me. "Uhh....." "Uhh doesn't cut it. You missed out on a big instruction. And that is to stay together! If it wasn't for us to rescue you once again, you would of been a bigger ration for them. Understood?" Vincent was disappointed and mad at me. "Yes sir!" "There's a hospital up ahead. If we hurry, we can seal that wound quickly." Explained Malcolm. A hospital tent. Perfect. As we arrived, Vincent called out for anyone around the area. "HELLO? ANYONE IN THERE? WE GOT WOUNDED!" shouted Vincent. No response. "Lets check the tent. Maybe they're busy with patients." guessed Malcolm. Vincent opened the hospital tent to see a disturbing surprise. Blood and corpses. We saw one of the corpses rise up and began to eat a dead nurse. "Shh.... Malcolm, you go get a first aid kid. Make sure you do it quietly." whispered Vincent. Malcolm managed to get around the eating corpse and picked up the first aid kit. He ran out of there fast. Vincent wrapped tape around my wound. Painful as it is, but it should hold out long. "Lets get the Hell out of here!" Vincent ordered. We ran out of the area as fast as possible. As we ran, Malcolm delivered a nice blow to a walking corpses' head with the butt of his Lee-Enfield. ~Alfred
September 3rd, 1916
We're hiding in the Northern part of Delville Wood for rest. We keep our eyes open for any Huns that are going to ambush us. Unexpectedly, we met the same squadron when we arrived at Delville Wood. Vincent told us that Allied forces won the Battle of Guillemont. The scratches and wounds made me curious if they fought the Huns or the Walking Dead, but whatever it was, it looked like one hell of a fight. Vincent asked them if there was anything else that was happening. Only one other thing going on: Allied forces and the Huns are having a continuous fight towards Falfemont Farm and High Wood. The squadron told us that there is no time having a little tea party. We followed the squadron to Falfemont Farm. In the meantime, Malcolm and I have a little personal conversation. "So.... do you have a family, Alfred?" Asked Malcolm in curiosity. "Yes. Beautiful wife named Martha. I have two children, Mark and Bertha." "I like those names." said Malcolm, complimenting me. "Yeah.... I do too." Malcolm noticed me getting sad. "What's a matter, lad?" I was at the edge of tears. "You see... my family is having hard times." "Oh...." "We're a poor family. My family needs someone to support them. And that person is me. So I figured doing military service would help them. So that's why I'm here. And if I'm dead... then I wouldn't make enough*." A tear dropped from my eye. "Quit over thinking, Private." demanded Vincent. "Its the truth, sir!" I responded. "Man up and stop acting like a sissy. You'll be fine, like I am. Besides, I killed 150 Afghans with scratches and wounds. And the same time I worried about my family about the minimum wage. You don't see me crying, do you?" Now I was having the urge to punch Vincent in the face. "Are you offending me, sir?" He gave a little chuckle. "What's offensive? Tell me that." Vincent said, having a smart mouth. That's when I release all the anger. "YOU SON OF A BITCH." I punched Vincent to his nose. Blood running out of his right nostril, he touched it and looked at me. He put on his war face. "Lad... you made the biggest mistake of you life." "Now, now.... lets just calm down for a minute." Malcolm said, trying to settle us down. It wasn't doing no good. "Calm down? CALM DOWN? He punched me in the nose! He engaged in a conflict that he will never forget in his worthless life." "YOU TAKE THAT BACK!" I said more angry than I was before. "MAKE ME." I tackled him, punching his face three times. He grabbed my throat and we turned the other way; I was on the bottom and he was on the top. He was choking me. "Lad, did you know that I killed people with these hands? I killed twenty people. TWENTY. With these man-made weapons. I was born with them, and damn right do I know how to use them! Like I said, boy, this is a conflict you will begin to regret. And here's a lesson you will NEVER forget: YOU NEVER MESS WITH YOUR SERGEANT. EVER." I was purple by the time he finished. I suddenly looked to my left, seeing my Lee-Enfield. I knew what to do from there. I remembered that the bayonet wasn't attached. I soon pulled out the bayonet as Vincent pulls out a knife and puts it on my throat. "Well what do you know? I'm just stabbing a dead soldier anyway." Vincent said in major grim. Just as he finished, I put the bayonet to the side of his neck. "Look who's talking." We both stared at each other with anger. We wouldn't know who was going to get killed first. "How about you take back all that stuff you said about me?" I demanded. "How about you stop being such a pansy?" Replied Vincent. We paused there. "Fine. But you have to agree too." "Deal." We stopped fighting from there. We got back to our feet and started walking to Falfemont Farm. I walked with embarrassment. ~Alfred
September 4th, 1916
We reached Falfemont Farm. Soldiers were running with injured and soldiers were in their positions. "Its about time we got reinforcements." one soldier said. "But this isn't enough." "Just be glad we finally got aid." An injured soldier, with his left arm bandaged, but bleeding. He looked up at us. "Hey lad....can you give me....some water...?" At first, I looked at him with sorrow. But without retaliating, I gave him what's left in my canteen. He drank it as if he was about to die in a desert. When he gave it back, not a drop was left. "Much appreciated, lad. I will forever remember you as my savior." He gave a huge grin. We continued moving through the trenches. Vincent stopped another Sergeant and asked him for help. "Excuse me, but where can we set position?" The Sergeant pointed at an empty Lewis gun* bunker. It shows a nice view of the farm's grassland. I manned the Lewis gun as Vincent and Malcolm position at the sides, both having Lee-Enfields in arms. After a while, there was nothing. I was getting tired, so was Vincent and Malcolm. As we were about to switch positions, we saw a Hun, just standing there, looking at the defended trenches. "LOOK, LADS. WE GOT A SAUSAGE EATER!" shouted a Lance Corporal. He then shot the Hun at his chest. Everyone erupted in laughter. The laughter ended when a stampede of Huns charged right towards us. I immediately started shooting the running Huns. From what I remember was the blood rushing out. Good thing I'm great at using the Lewis gun. Soon, we all heard a Hun shouts out something to all of the other Huns. Everyone in the trenches released a victory cry and began to cheer. We even cheered too. I looked at the grassland to see a bloody Hun walk. "INCOMING!" I shouted. Suddenly, the cheering stopped. Everyone in the trenches looked at the bloody Hun. He was walking very slow. "Back for more? Eat this for a change!" A machine gunner said. He fired at the bloody Hun. It kept moving towards them. "What the?! ITS STILL WALKING! SHOOT IT! SHOOT IT!" Ordered the Officer. Everyone started shooting at the Hun. I saw its right arm fly out, but it still kept coming towards us. When this happens, everyone began to panic. "WHY WON'T YOU DIE?! WHY WON'T YOU DIE?! WHAT ARE YOU?!" said a panicked soldier. One soldier panicked so much that he committed suicide. Finally, the bloody Hun fell dead as a headshot was made. Everyone fell into relief. Malcolm noticed that there are more bloody Huns coming at the trenches. "OH SHOOT! WE GOT MORE!" shouted the Officer. Everyone was shooting at the incoming wave of the bloody Huns. "SHOOT AT THE HEAD! SHOOT AT THE HEAD!" I shouted. Everyone panicked so much that they ignored a single word from me. A few soldiers retreated, but the officer shot them on sight. "NOBODY RETREATS." Commanded the Officer. The battle gets more intense every time they keep moving forward towards the trench. Vincent focused on giving soldiers ammunition. Malcolm focused on slowing the dead down. I focused on just killing them. The day feels like it gets more darker and darker. God is wearing black for these soldiers. "Aim for the god damned head!" shouted a Lance Corporal. The Officer had out his M1911* and began shooting at the bloody Hun's. He tried his best at going for the head, but its not working. "DAMMIT! BAYONETS READY!" The Officer ordered. This is their last chance to defend Falfemont Farm. No matter what, they aren't giving up. They're even going to die for it! On the last hope of defense, soldiers got their Lee-Enfields and put on their bayonets. The Officer remains standing with his M1911 in hand. Soldiers were in position with their bayonets ready. As the dead began to come towards them, the soldiers put their bayonets through their chests. It didn't work. Some of them were feasted on by the dead as the fell on top of them. The Officer then fires his M1911 at the dead, as if he's executing them. Vincent then grabbed his Lee-Enfield and started shooting at the dead who are about to fall on the soldiers. Malcolm did the same while I was shooting at the incoming horde. Many of them were Huns, some of them were in British uniform. A few of them were wearing gas masks. It's a nightmare here. "We got to fall back. There's too many of them!" I said to Vincent and Malcolm. The Officer pointed his M1911 at me. "I said... NOBODY is retreating. My orders." "Are you crazy? Most of your men are being eaten right now!" Malcolm said. I resumed at shooting at the horde. "I'm not crazy... I'm just doing my job." The Officer then reloaded and began executing more of the Walking Dead. As soon as more of the dead come walking towards us, I saw a crate that says 'No 1 Hand Grenades*' "I found hand grenades!" I said with excitement. I tossed a few to the Officer. The Officer immediately threw the grenades at the incoming horde. I watched as guts and limbs went flying. Masses of blood splashed on the ground. It was an onslaught. "Its working! The horde is shortening up!" I said with more excitement. Vincent and Malcolm smiled and continued shooting. The onslaught ended as the horde was no more. "You want to come with us?" I offered. The Officer looked at me slowly. "This is my home. Nobody is taking it away from me." He went inside the farmhouse after that and never came out. We went and hide in one of the trenches for the night. Hope nothing happens to us. ~Alfred
September 7th, 1916
Its a fine clear day. I went outside today to see a zeppelin*. I got Vincent and Malcolm outside to see. "Probably spying on the dead." guessed Malcolm. "No. Maybe searching for survivors." replied Vincent. "How do we know its not the Huns?" "Simple. We find out." Now Vincent is thinking of a plan. "How do we do that?" "I don't know. Find an airship?" cracked up Vincent. "Yeah, right...." Just then, I saw a person fall out of the zeppelin, along with two other people. The zeppelin suddenly caught on fire and burnt to the ground. "What in bloody Hell?!" Vincent was shocked. We all ran towards the burnt zeppelin. Completely ruined. I then saw a few corpses laying a few feet away from them. I took a look at them. One of them isn't eaten. I took a look at the others. Torn off flesh. All of them are Huns. Near the bloody corpses was a pistol. I never seen it before. It looks well hand crafted. I picked it up and showed Vincent. He said it is a Luger*. I ditched my revolver and taken the Luger with me, also taking a few magazines from his ammunition patch. We're leaving to Leuze Wood. Hopefully nothing happens to us. ~Alfred
September 9th, 1916
Ginchy* is now taken by us. Its a perfect day to move as we are greeted by Frenchmen. We're at Leuze Wood now. I made another mate today. His name is Napoleon G. Babin, enlisted to Caporal. He looks incredibly young. Blond hair with brown eyes. We had a good conversation on how long we've been in the trenches. I was surprised how he knew English. I'm lucky. ~Alfred
September 13th, 1916
Its an overcast today. Nice and cool weather. Napoleon told me that the Frenchmen are having a good progress to the southeast of Combles. Its great hearing us gaining more ground. I received a newspaper from a soldier handing out newspapers. I read the title, which caught my attention. "The Dead Begin to Walk? Rumors Continue to Spread." Great. First, it was only us to know. Next, it was the soldiers to know. Now, its the whole world that should know. Everybody would think that the press is completely stupid. Would people even buy this kind of rumor? Now more questions are thought up. Whatever is going on, this isn't going to turn out well. ~Alfred
September 15th, 1916
This very day will have me curious. Today, I saw an armored car* going through the trenches. I watched as the Huns were shooting at the car, but no effect was made. The car would go right through the Huns' trenches. I thought I saw the car run over a Hun or two. Whoever made that is incredible. I imagine of what it would look like against a crowd of Walking Dead. ~Alfred
September 17th, 1916
Its a very quiet day. It makes me worried if the press did put fear into everyone's hearts. And I think it worked just well. Britain closed their harbors not long ago. A rumor is being spread in the trenches today that the British Armed Forces began shooting at a crowd of citizens. I also heard that a three squadron of Huns disappeared yesterday. Is the world beginning to collapse? ~Alfred
September 20th, 1916
Napoleon told me that the Frenchmen held Combles at its best efforts. Now I always question myself who they are fighting. Also the 1st Cavalry Division has been withdrawn. Is it because of the weather, or the Huns, or the walking dead.... I think I'm over thinking the whole situation. ~Alfred
September 24th, 1916
The Huns failed to attack the west of Lesboeufs today. Now everyone is over thinking this. Is it the soldiers over at Lesboeufs or is it the Walking Dead? Speaking of the Walking Dead, I thought I saw a few of them in the distance. Now my mind is going crazy. I can't tell the difference between a human or a walking corpse! Someone give us an explanation! ~Alfred
September 25th, 1916
Its a "good" day today. Actually, a very successful day for the us. Lesboeufs and Morval were both captured by us. Surprised to hear that there was no walking corpses interfering with them. Very surprised. Things are getting more strange everyday. I know that I didn't say anything about the world in these entries, but I have the urge of explaining it. The Ottoman Empire is staying quiet. Britain is under lock down. The Huns began a curfew just a few days ago. South Africa and The Netherlands stopped handing us support in the trenches. I think I am right. No more questioning about the world. I think the world is beginning to collapse. ~Alfred
September 26th, 1916
This day has been hell for both Huns and us. Vincent ordered Malcolm, Napoleon and me to get our stuff. We're going to Thiepval Ridge. Just to get this out of the way; its us and the Frenchmen vs the Huns again. We met up with the Fourth Army, just in time for the battle to begin. We fired first as they return fire. Its a common battle. We shoot at them, and they shoot back at us. Vincent nearly got shot on his neck. He said he felt the bullet pass near him. Malcolm was shooting at the Huns as blind as a bat. Napoleon was helping other Frenchmen. I was helping a machine gunner out. Right now, the battle is still going on. I'll write down what's happening tomorrow. ~Alfred
September 27th, 1916
I woke up with no gunfire. Were we given a ceasefire? I asked the officer as the Huns suddenly stopped shooting at the trenches for a while. He thought he heard a scream at their trenches, and a few gunshots. He even saw a Hun try to climb out of his trenches, but something grabbed him and pulled him back in. He was screaming "NEIN!" many times. Just as I finished talking with him, I saw a Hun rise up. Only one. Not a charging stampede of them, but just one. He looked horrible. His jaw is missing, along with a few teeth. His torso was covered with blood. He had both arms, but both looked like they were chewed on. Lastly, his legs. He was limping. And he was coming at us. "Bloody Hell?!" A machine gunner shouted. "GOOD GOD! ITS THE WALKING DEAD!" Panicked another soldier. "Don't just talk about it! TAKE IT OUT!" Shouted the officer. Nearly everyone in the trench was releasing bullets at the walking corpse. I watched as blood rained everywhere around him. I saw a shot to his head, but it was his cheek that was shot. He continued moving. I thought if you shot them to the head, they would drop dead! As more soldiers wasted their ammo on the limping 'human', the bastard fell to its knees, but continued crawling at us. At last, a bullet to its upper head was made, and it finally fell dead. "Wait a minute." I said. "AIM AT THE UPPER HEAD!" Hopefully this would work well. I saw another few disoriented corpses walk towards us, only its at the left side of the trenches. Everyone tried aiming at the upper head. As I expected, they fell dead. Saved us more ammo and time. After that, no more corpses walked towards us. We waited for the Huns to shoot at us. Nothing. We're planning to send in a squad of Frenchmen to see what happened. Hope nothing goes bad. ~Alfred
September 28th, 1916
No more shooting. The Frenchmen went to look in their trenches, but ran back to ours. All of their faces were white as a ghost. The British Officer ordered everyone to get over the top* to check out the Huns' trenches. We looked to see something horrifying. Those damned corpses are chewing other corpses. A few soldiers vomited on the scene. Then the Officer gave us the order to execute the creatures. After the executions of the creatures, we took them out of the trenches one by one. Everyone then realized that Thiepval Ridge is under our control. Boy, we had an enormous celebration. All of the soldiers drank tons of pints, some were dancing and singing to "It's a Long Way To Tipperary*". Malcolm tried to not drink too much pint, but Vincent is showing how much he is enjoying life. Napoleon, however, was guarding. I asked him what was wrong as he tells me that he found out his father died from influenza*. He was holding a letter in his hands. Tears were dropping from his eyes. I tried comforting him as I gave him a pint. He refused to drink. I feel terribly sorry for Napoleon. If only I could do something about it. ~Alfred
September 30th, 1916
Napoleon isn't feeling well today. He even wanted to commit suicide. I saw him putting his revolver upon his head. I immediately stopped him from doing so. I tried talking him out of it, but to him, it seemed much worse. I talked to Napoleon about his past moments with his father. It rather seemed...touching. He loved his father. He loved him more than life itself. He remembers hearing stories from his father when he was sent from the heavens. He also remembers when his father taught him how to use a gun for the first time in his life, and managed to kill a dear with him. Lastly, he remembers when his father gave a big smile whenever he saw him. The last thing he remembers was when his father watched him go to war. It actually put me in tears. I love my father, but Napoleon expressed out that he loves him more than life. Without him, he said that he would be useless, and that his life is meaningless. I tried cheering him up. He didn't want to make a bigger deal than it is, but he appreciated it. All I did was pat him on the back and went back guarding the trenches. I hope Napoleon will be OK. ~Alfred
October 2nd, 1916
Its foggy today. We failed to guard le Sars today. What a damn shame. Strangely enough, stories went around that the Huns didn't invade le Sars. Rumors spread that it was the Austrian-Hungarians, but I doubted them. Good thing is that Napoleon is getting a grip into it. He's showing slow progress that he is alright, thank God. Today, I saw another one of those walking corpses in the fog. I couldn't tell if it was a Frenchman or a Hun. I couldn't see any of its wounds. As I picked up my Lee-Enfield, a gunshot immediately killed it as the bullet went through its head. It's like shooting bottles; aim high or low, it will not break. Aim directly at it, it shatters into many pieces. Anyways, I looked at the shooter. It was Napoleon. He told me that he was releasing his anger. I replied "Nice shot." Will he release all his anger on them, or will he still contain it? Time will tell. ~Alfred
October 3rd, 1916
Still foggy, which makes it more scary. What if a crowd of those things come at us without any warning? What if a stampede of Huns came marching in without warning? That's what scares me. A soldier isn't afraid of anything, but I think I just expressed my fears. Everything is quiet. Vincent and Malcolm are having a quiet conversation as they played cards. Napoleon is staring at the message. And I'm over here, watching out for Huns or Walking Corpses. Vincent suddenly told me that Britain isn't anyone in or out of the country. So is Ireland. He said that the British Armed Forces are doing daily patrols. He even told me that they shot a few people trying to get out. I also heard that one of the Ottoman Empire's ships, the Yavuz Sultan Selim*, sank today. Strangely enough, no torpedo or naval battle conflicted with the ship. It just sank by itself. This world is becoming crazy. ~Alfred
October 5th, 1916
The Frenchmen made progress to the east of Morval while our forces made it to the north-west of Eaucourt. I checked my feet for trench foot. Thank God I don't have it yet. It must be a miracle. I'm always wondering what the Huns are up too. More rumors are being spread that Germany is under lock down. My homeland is still under lock down as well. I pray that my family is alright. More strangely, the Ottoman Empire has been silent for a while now. The Netherlands and South Africa completely stopped giving us support. I wonder what's happening with them. ~Alfred
October 6th, 1916
The ground was dry today, but its raining right now. Malcolm is busy reading Sherlock Holmes* while Vincent talks to two officers. Napoleon however, is watching out for any Huns or Walking Corpses along with me. We had a conversation while we were hunting for ducks. Napoleon was born in Paris, while I was born in London. We have a common interest. Another common interest is how we enjoy shooting with rifles. Its our specialty. Malcolm nudges in as he likes to use revolvers more, then got back to reading his novel. Again, I get bothered by the fact that everything in Europe is becoming stranger. I talked to Napoleon about it as he quotes that its not just me who gets bothered by it. Apparently, everyone is. He even told me that Paris is under lock down by the Frenchmen and us. Just after he told me that, we resumed back on No-Mans-Land to see a walking corpse growl right in front of us. We both screamed as Malcolm quickly drew out his revolver, instantly killing the damned creature in the head. He has a quick hand. Perfect for shootouts. He then lowered it and went back to reading his novel. I got to admit, without Malcolm, once of us would be eaten alive by those things. He's really not that bad of a kid. ~Alfred
October 7th, 1916
Napoleon came up to me saddened. He said that Lord French is not coming to meet up with the Frenchmen. For one, its because of the lock down in Paris. Two, he fears that he will become one of the walking corpses. Another strange thing happened today; the Blockade of Germany* is slowly drifting away. Stories are being told everywhere that the sailors on those ships died from starvation due to my homeland's lock down. Another story says that a few Walking Corpses managed to get on the ships. This is unbelievable. Now Austria-Hungry is quiet too. All of the Central Powers and most of the Western Alliance is being silent. Russia on the other hand.... its going to be a long story. Best if I don't write it down. I was walking in the trenches today as I encountered a crowd of soldiers watching something. I got in closer to see a walking corpse feasting on an officer. "Good God...." I said, shocked. I looked at everyone watching. "Don't just stand here and watch it! KILL IT!" I shouted. Everybody stood still. I sighed and pulled out my Webley, and executed it right in front of everyone. I shot the officer that was eaten. I then looked at everyone in frustration. "Bloody Hell with all of you." I threw my Webley at the corpses and walked back to where Napoleon, Vincent and Malcolm were. I was sitting in major frustration. Malcolm and Napoleon tried talking it out, but I didn't want to make a bigger issue than it is. I'm going to have a bad night. ~Alfred
October 10th, 1916
Napoleon gave me good news as the Frenchmen made it to Chaulnes. I was happy for him. I took another walk around the trenches to see a pile of killed soldiers. I then saw a man holding a revolver. A Webley? I took another step closer as the man turned around. He looked old with chaos in his eyes. I backed away. "So, you think you can stop me from this mess, huh?" He sounded crazy. "No, mate." I was getting afraid. "Mate? MATE? What's a mate?" He said, laughing. I stayed silent. "This world has gone to hell, boy. And in hell, you can do whatever you want, right? Wrong. YOU GET PUNISHED AND YOU BURN IN IT." He reloaded his Webley with only one bullet in the chamber. He put it on his head. "AND THAT'S WHAT'S GOING TO HAPPEN TO ME." He pulled the trigger, with less chance of me stopping his suicide. I ran away in fear. Ever since then, I was afraid to look out of the trenches. I'm scared. I'm afraid. I'm terrified. ~Alfred
October 11th, 1916
I was woken up by a major ton of moaning. Napoleon and Malcolm were reloading with Vincent out of sight. I picked up my Lee-Enfield and asked Malcolm what was happening. And I was not satisfied with his answer. The walking corpses surrounded the trenches. I suggested getting out of here, but they didn't listen as they were busy shooting at the crowd. I tagged along. We ran a few miles to another trench system. We can hear the moaning from back there. I wondered about Vincent. Where did he run off? Is he hiding? Is he one of them? I stopped questioning as I found an armored car. I got Napoleon and Malcolm's attention. "They're called Tanks, Alfred." Malcolm said. I got inside the 'Tank' with Napoleon and Malcolm and started driving into No-Mans-Land. A huge crowd was in the field. I began driving the Tank towards the horde. Napoleon and Malcolm are shooting at the Walking Corpses as I am driving. As I drove into the crowd, there was cracking bones and moans of mercy. You wouldn't believe how much fun it was. As we got to the opposing side, there were no Huns to be seen. We got out to see if there were any Huns. There were none. Just then, Napoleon needed to find or see something. "What is it, Napoleon?" Asked Malcolm. "I need to find my father's watch." "And where does your father live?" "Paris." ~Alfred
October 12th, 1916
Nice and dry today. Our forces are making it to Eaucourt and Bapaume. Can't wait to hear another victory by us. Continuing onward, we took the tank after we finally agreed with Napoleon. I don't know if Napoleon really wants his father's watch, or if he wants to get us killed. Anyways, as we reached Paris, there was a machine gun bunker. Along there were two Frenchmen wearing gas masks. We asked about what was going on as they replied that people began to become crazy, just eating and chasing each other. We saw one of the walking corpses approach the gate, trying to grab one of them. One of the Frenchmen stabbed its eye with a bayonet. The eye came off, but it still tried to grab him. "We're sorry, gentlemen, but Paris is under lock down. Nobody gets in or out." "Wait a minute... its a quarantine, right?" asked Napoleon. "We're not sure why they called it lock downs, but if you say so." "I need to get something. I forgot it in there." The guards looked at him. "Sir, again, Paris is under lock down. Nobody gets IN or OUT." We didn't know what to do. There were patrols all over the fences. Machine gunners were stationed around the city of Paris. It would be risky climbing over the fence. Not sure if we were going to be shot. But I had an idea. I got a few walking corpses to come over to a patrol group. Surprisingly, one of them were very close to the fence. The walking corpse grabbed his arm and began biting him. The patrol group had to struggle getting him away from the creature. Lastly, we climbed over the fence. We're in Paris. ~Alfred
October 13th, 1916
A Corps Conference is to be held today. My excuse for him would be getting a Frenchman his watch in Paris. Everyone would look at me strangely. Too late anyways. Napoleon took us to an apartment building. It looks neat. As we got in, I saw a citizen running from a few walking corpses. I defended him by shooting them all in the head. I even got one in between the eyes. The citizen looked at me and smiled, then continued running. Napoleon kicked down the door to see a golden watch. He grabbed it and stuffed it in his pocket. As he found it, Malcolm looked through the window. It was zeppelin. It must have been watching the chaos in the streets and reporting it. I never seen this much madness in my life. I witnessed seeing a few citizens running from a crowd of those creatures. I saw a bunch of those creatures banging on the door and breaking the windows at the apartment building that's across the street. I saw Frenchmen getting into position, shooting at the horde that was walking closer to them. Machine guns going off, rifles reloading, officers yelling, and more. Then, I heard a boom in the distance. Unexpectedly, I felt the ground shake. I saw an artillery shell go off at where the Frenchmen were shooting at the horde. Their limbs came flying, as if it was raining brutally. Malcolm, Napoleon and I stayed in the room for a good period of time. Napoleon said that we have to escape Paris now. As we were about to leave the apartment building, I saw Napoleon picking up a picture. I took a look at it to see that it was him and his father, smiling at each other. ~Alfred
October 14th, 1916
We managed to escape Paris. It was difficult, but we did it somehow. We avoided the walking corpses, citizens and Frenchmen. We climbed over the fence just in time. We got back in the tank and took off. I thought they saw us getting in the tank, but its not that much of a worry. I guess that clock and photo mean a lot to him. ~Alfred
October 16th, 1916
Its a good day. No operations. But the fact that bothers me is that Vincent is MIA. We haven't heard anything from him. We lost him. All we have to do is pray that he's still alive. ~Alfred
October 17th, 1916
We got back in the trenches to see that no soldier is there. We sat down and discussed about what we should do. I'm worried about my homeland, still. I hope my family isn't harmed. I just hope. ~Alfred
October 18th, 1916
We saw a few Frenchmen walk by. Napoleon stopped them to ask them what's happening. First off, everyone in this area has retreated or has become one of those things. Next, Paris is close to having the walking dead overrun the entire city. The Frenchmen tried their best to handle the situation. Artillery tried to be useful, but it only hit buildings, empty streets and even Frenchmen and civilians, but it hit a little bit of the dead. Its not enough to take them out. Everyone at Paris is pulling out to Pontoise, Meaus and Melun. The lock down in Paris will soon be lifted by the dead. Lastly, Lord France is unknown to be found. They don't know what's happening, we don't know what's happening, EVERYONE doesn't know what's happening. Is this the beginning of the end of the world? ~Alfred
October 19th, 1916
The rain is heavy tonight. I saw a brigade of soldiers with tanks. I stopped one of them to ask what was happening in Britain. The same thing happened. The situation is out of control. London is fully taken over by the dead. My homeland will soon parish into the dead's hands. ~Alfred
October 20th, 1916
Its freezing today. Malcolm is getting very tired. He hasn't slept for a while. I talked to Malcolm on how he was doing. All he did was look at me. He spoke out a sentence: "Life won't exist anymore." I tried snapping him out of it. It was no use. He looked at me again and grabbed me to my neck. "Kill.....me......" He had a Webley in his hand. I refused. He got more upset. He finally stood up. "I said.... KILL ME." He had more pressure and more anger. "I'm not going to pull that trigger on a lad like you." I said. He got incredibly mad. He kicked me to the wall very hard. He threw his Webley at my chest. "DON'T REFUSE MY ORDERS. YOU FOLLOW ORDERS. YOU DON'T WHINE LIKE THE BITCH YOU ALREADY ARE. I SAID KILL ME, GOD DAMMIT." His breathing was deep inhaled. "Malcolm.... are you alright?" "TO HELL, I'M NOT. MY HOMELAND IS GONE. MY FRIENDS ARE GONE. ALL LIFE IS GONE. DON'T YOU UNDERSTAND THAT?" I nodded my head 'no'. I was shaking. "ARE YOU BLOODY STUPID? ARE YOU?!" He grabbed me and punched me over and over. Finally, he threw me to the ground. He kicked his Webley over. "GOD DAMMIT, LAD. DAMMIT, DAMMIT, DAMMIT. KILL ME ALREADY. END MY WORTHLESS LIFE ALREADY. JUST DO IT. JUST DO I-" Blood went flying on my face. Malcolm fell to the ground. I heard his last breath. I looked behind him to see Napoleon. "You alright? I'm sorry." Napoleon expressed. He got me back to my feet. We're leaving this hellhole. ~Alfred
October 21st, 1916
Its very cold today, just like yesterday. I still can't get over the fact that Malcolm went crazy and ended up dying under his own will. I felt terrible. We entered another trench area. On the way, we saw a patrol squad of Huns. They aimed their weapons at us and yelled at us. We ran away, hearing them shoot at us. I thought they were chasing us. Turns out they weren't. We saw another zeppelin. Two of them actually. We tried getting their attention, but it ended up being pointless. We're never getting out of here. As we run away from the trenches, I begin to think. What's wrong with every country? Can't they handle this situation? Is the Ottoman Empire in ruins already because of those things? Is Germany starting to give up? Is my homeland in flames right now? Soon, I will learn that everything will end. ~Alfred
October 22nd, 1916
Not as cold today. I found another tank, just abandoned. It still works, luckily. We drove out of the trench areas into Western France. Just then, Napoleon had an idea to go to the United States. But how? I sure hope there is a boat or battleship. Its going to be a long trip getting there. I can't figure it out how. I ran over a few walking corpses and a Hun. I only smiled and continued driving. All I want right now is to go somewhere safe. No more walking corpses, no more Huns, no more anything. ~Alfred
October 24th, 1916
We're headed to Calais. Its going to be a long drive, but there's a harbor there. Can't wait to make it there. ~Alfred
October 28th, 1916
We're at Montreuli right now. The city is completely destroyed. I saw a few walking corpses, which I executed quietly with a bayonet. Suddenly, I was ambushed by a Frenchman. He had a Lebel Model 1886*. Napoleon shot the man, and we continued our ride to Calais. ~Alfred
October 30th, 1916
At Boulogne. This city is fortified by Frenchmen. They warned us to leave immediately, and we listened. So much for trouble... Napoleon ran over a few walking corpses. Now he knows how fun it is to drive. ~Alfred
November 1st, 1916
We finally made it to Calais. I see nothing here. No walking corpses, no survivors, nothing. I didn't find a boat anywhere. We'll have to keep searching tomorrow. ~Alfred
November 2nd, 1916
Napoleon found a boat! As we approached the harbor, a few Frenchmen stopped us. They wanted our boat. Napoleon shot one of them as he got shot in the chest by another Frenchman. I shouted at Napoleon, as I watched him fall into the water, slowly dying. The two Frenchmen aimed their weapons at me to hand them the boat. As an idiot, I let them. I waved goodbye to them as I heard them laughing. I'm all alone. ~Alfred
November 4th, 1916
Now I learned that my life is meaningless. Vincent: MIA. Malcolm: Got shot by Napoleon and died on the spot. Napoleon: Got shot by a Frenchman and died in the water. I'm alone. Its very quiet here. I have this Luger with me, along with my Lee-Enfield. I'm not going to commit suicide. I'm not. Instead, I'm going to fight those bastards back to hell where they came from. I won't stop until I die. For my homeland, for my lads, for the world.
After three days of working, researching, inspiration and.... more working, this is what I made.
Criticism is allowed. I wouldn't mind as much as the comments aren't harsh. ------------------------- VOCAB/INFORMATION (*) ------------------------- sausage eating/eaters: An insult British soldiers used to call Germans.
Huns: British nickname for Germans.
Sir Roger Casement: British politician. Born on September 1st, 1864. Arrested for treason. Died in Pentonville Prison in London, England on August 3rd, 1916.
Trench Foot: a painful foot disorder resembling frostbite and resulting from prolonged exposure to cold and wet
Bayonet: Three-inch blade attachment for rifles. Mostly used when charging into enemy lines.
Mauser C39: Semi-automatic pistol invented in Germany. British officers would obtain these in private purchases.
Mate: British slang for "friend".
Pint: British slang for "beer".
Gas: Gas bombs is commonly used by Germans in World War I, mostly in The Battle of the Somme. Mustard gas is a well-known gas used in Trench Warfare for burning the inside of the chest, suffocating the soldiers who inhaled it.
Gas Masks: Protection against gas attacks.
Fag: British slang for "cigarette".
Second Anglo-Afghan War: Two year war (1878-1880) conflicting Afghanistan and British India, as British India invades Afghanistan for the second time. The war ended with the Treaty of Gandamak, which is when Afghanistan ceded various frontier areas to Britain to prevent invasion of further areas of the country. Signed in May 26th, 1879, British India withdraws from Afghanistan. But, the Afghans maintain internal sovereignty, but cede control of their nation's foreign relations to Britain.
Lee-Metford: A bolt action British army service rifle.
No-Mans-Land: Commonly said by soldiers that is to describe the area of land between two enemy trench systems to which neither side wished to move openly or to seize due to fear of being attacked by the enemy in the process.
Webley: Service Revolver created by the British.
Lee-Enfield: A bolt-action, magazine-fed, repeating, standard issued rifle created by the British.
Gewehr 88: A bolt action service rifle created by the Germans.
"Italy declared war on the Huns today.": Italy declared war on Germany on August 27th, 1916 due to France and Great Britain promising more land to Italy if it had joined the Western Alliance.
"Things are getting worse in the trenches here.": On August 30th, 1916, the trenches at Guillemont are very wet and muddy.
Delville Wood (Or the Battle of Delville Wood): From July 14th to September 15th, 1916 as South African and British forces fought German forces. Trees and plants were tremendously destroyed.
"And if I'm dead... then I wouldn't make enough." A Private would make 1s 6d per day.
Lewis gun: A Light machine gun invented by the British and the United States.
M1911: A semi-automatic pistol created by the United States. Limited usage by the British.
No 1 Hand Grenades: The first British hand grenade used in WWI.
Zeppelin: An airship. Used for spying or observing the battlefield.
Ginchy (The Battle of Ginchy): A one day battle (September 9th, 1916) where the British and French forces fought the Germans, which ended as a British victory.
Armored Car (Tank): On September 15th, 1916, is it the first time ever for tanks to be used on the battlefield.
'It's a Long Way To Tipperary': A popular song in World War I, created by Albert Farrington. (Song: [link] )
Influenza: An infection that causes sore throats, headaches, loss of appetite and blood poisoning. One of the main diseases in World War I, along with Typhoid. Killed 40,000,000 people worldwide.
Yavuz Sultan Selim: A battleship given by the German Empire, via Transferred. Originally called the 'SMS Goeben'.
Blockade of Germany: a prolonged naval operation conducted by the Allied Powers during and after World War I in an effort to restrict the maritime supply of raw materials and foodstuffs to the Central Powers, which included Germany, Austria-Hungary and Turkey.
Sherlock Holmes: Well known famous fictional British detective created by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. Sherlock Holmes has a total of 4 long stories and 56 short stories.
Lebel Model 1886: A bolt action rifle created by the French.
Face to face to face to face I whispered, said, prayed, vomited the future Our long-lost friend comes crawling home Then another And baby makes Legion
We can walk past the pillars of ancestral bloat Toss the offerings over our shoulders We can flee the morning forever as long as the hunt continues
Lebab fo rewot Dliuber, dliub Noitadnuof eht ni doolb
What is a saint but a nightmare? Venomous reality resurrected and given shape Given scars Given shade Given weapons Given reflection Given unto all
Ohcirej fo sllaw Dliuber, dliub Ratrom eht in nis
You Might Even Hear Praises Sung After Leaving Babylon
I turn the devil on his head "Satan is by far the kindest guest" When everyone at the table wants our brains splattered on their own particular pavement He can become intoxicated just like the rest of us Drinking souls and souls and fermented souls
I wait in the antechamber for the body to be christened A new vessel to a new below Let us ride with the fuller moon of the two (?)
Arehsa fo selop Dliuber, dliub Tniap eht ni msidas
Triple-headed hydra of Heaven Sing to the one you were too late to save Make him (a deal) Mold him (a helmet) Fill him (with fire) Send him (to the West, to reign) He staggers He stumbles He falls He rights himself again
Laab fo eutats Niaga ezar, ezar Truth in the death