United Kingdom

Hi! I'm Lilly and I love writing and talking to people about their or my work! I also like pancakes, rain and reading :) Any feedback is always appreciative on any of my work, I think my writing style varies quite a bit but I hope you enjoy it!

Message from Writer

To answer a common question I get my inspiration from observation of myself, other people and usually day dreaming :)

A Life for a Life

April 23, 2016

I started running. My mind flashed back to my mom crying at the kitchen table as the rusty mail delivery van came, rumbling and coughing, up our dusty path. She damned Vietnam for killing innocent people of our country. She praised America for fighting the Vietnam force but then damned them for dragging her boy to fight. I remember looking into the mirror into my own icy blue eyes; trying to imagine myself as a soldier. It all seemed so far away and unlikely.
But there I was, nine weeks later.
I stumbled round another thick tree panting heavily; I leant against it wiping the blood that had splattered across my face. The image of half my general’s body ripped from his legs after being hit with a grenade, screaming and bleeding, was burning into my brain. All of us had scattered from that sight, desperate to get his cries for us to leave to stop ringing in our ears.
I pushed past a thick mound of bushes, my trembling hands clutched on to my rifle. The thick moist air was clinging to my skin as I advanced through the dense jungle. My helmet caused more sweat to build up on my forehead and roll down my face.
Suddenly, I heard a rustle.
I instantly dropped to my knees and shuffled behind a clump of trees. Silently, I checked my gun was loaded and gripped it just as I had been drilled in doing in basic training.
Another soldier staggered into my view, but his uniform wasn’t dull olive green with tough brown boots like mine. It was navy with a blue and white necktie and wide-brimmed navy hat. I knew clearly this wasn’t an American soldier like me; it was a young Viet Cong enemy soldier.
He clutched his side tightly with blood leaking through his uniform as he fell to the ground, panting. I was frozen in shock; sweat dripping down my face as I watched him lie, out of breath and bleeding. Before I could comprehend my actions I was at his side cleaning and bandaging his wound. Every captain and general, even the drill sergeants at basic training yelled in my head to leave or shoot him. But I shook them out and carried on. I didn’t care that these were bandages meant for patching up hurt American soldiers.
The soldier kept watching me all the time as I finished binding him up he whispered some broken English words of thanks. I nodded and leant him against tree hidden by fallen branches and nearby bushes.
As I backed away the air felt different somehow, an unknown instinct kicked in. I could feel someone was watching me. I slowly turned and scanned the dense jungle.
Then I saw another pair of eyes that locked with mine hidden within the brush.
 They belonged to another man. With that same navy uniform. Another enemy. Mud camouflage was smeared on his face but I could tell he was an older, more experienced soldier with a hard expression. I carried on staring into those icy blue eyes, those icy blue eyes that were just like my own. Just like the ones I’d seen in the mirror at home. I had no doubt the assault rifle he carried was loaded as it was aimed for my guts.
I breathed softly preparing for death, frozen once again. But then his eyes flickered to the soldier I’d saved. Without a word he nodded gravely. His rifle lowered slowly to the floor. And an understanding passed between us.
I broke the gaze and swiftly shouldered my bag. I stood and started to delve deeper into the jungle till his navy uniform was lost in the endless jungle.
A life for a life; all he did was repay.   


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  • April 23, 2016 - 8:09am (Now Viewing)

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1 Comment
  • Write Sarah!

    This honestly captured my attention! You created the environment in my head, almost felt as if I was him. Please read my work, I feel as if we're on the same writing base, to capture someone's character.

    over 2 years ago