“I’m not going in there.”
The wind whistled through the looming trees at the forest’s edge.
“You’re just being paranoid,” scoffed Meltun.
Eadin protested: “No…”
“Then come on; follow me!” Melton plunged in. He never reemerged.
Eadin wondered, later, how much longer his story might have been if he’d followed.
This story is based on a title suggested by @TrueAntitonic.
Huddled in the muddy trenches, they dodged raindrops and warded off bullets with prayers.
“Man, this is really serious!” one soldier shouted to the other.
“Yeah, he usually writes lighthearted stories! This subject matter doesn’t really lend itself to jokes!”
“He’ll probably do some kind of meta-level cop-out with it!”
They shared everything together. Every scrap of bread; every whispered word; every somber smile. They were a community: they shared a goal, a common end. After all, the only thing worse than awaiting death was awaiting it alone.
On sad days, their numbers shrank; on sadder days, their numbers grew.
The title for this story was suggested by Ragepyro.