My Sad Story

I am covered in blood. I could smell my blood gushing out of my leg and my stomach, the sun is giving me the heat of hell. I am dying, I don’t want to and I can’t ask for help. I look around and saw a lot of people like me, a soldier, lying on the ground having the same problem as mine, asking for help to survive. I am losing conscious. I can’t die yet; I wanted to at least have a good time with my family. I can’t lose conscious. Is it night already? Why do I see the night sky?

I open my eyes and I am amazed that I survived. I am all bandaged up on my body. There are many things I want to ask. What happened to war? Did we win? Where are my buddy and friends? Why do I see a lot of injured people? I don’t have the energy to speak, even lift my hand or finger. “How are you feeling today, sir?”, “Welcome to Britain.” Said a nurse. A certain burst of happiness and pride rush upon me, I was happy that I lost conscious again.

This time I hear a loud of cheering outside the hospital. I tried to get up and want to take a good look outside. There’re thousands of people cheering for the ending of war in Europe. I wanted to join them. Suddenly, I remember to look for my friends. “Sorry buddy, your friends didn’t make it,” a guy who’s lying beside me on the bed said in a sad voice. “I usually saw you with three of them everyday during war but I don't think any of them make it.” I don’t know what to fell that time, to feel happy with the people outside or feel sad and guilty for being alive and notice that my friends didn’t make it. I don’t know what to think I just lost all my strength from all the shock I got and lost conscious again.