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Rael
02-13-2006, 05:41 AM
The Invaders


I have been fighting in the war for our planet for two years now. Two very long years. I am part of the infantry command, a foot soldier, part of the team who has to clean up the leftovers after the bombers sweep the battlefields. It is a war over our planet, a war fighting for the continuation of our own existence.
We never asked for a war. The Invaders, as they are commonly referred to, came without warning. They started shooting before they broke the atmosphere. The most damage was done within the first hour, a sneak attack that decimated fifteen percent of our population. I, like most other males who were able to, signed up to defend our planet immediately. We had been without war for two hundred years, so no one had ever fought, which left us at a great disadvantage. The first on-foot fighting were massacres, we didn’t know what to do and we weren’t prepared for the cold-hearted creatures that were our enemy.
Our enemy was very similar to us. They had two eyes, two arms and legs, a nose and mouth. They breathed oxygen like us. It was later found out that the reason they had invaded us is because their planet had been exhausted of all it’s resources. We are a peaceful people. If they would have asked for our help, we would have done all we could, but that wasn’t their way. Shoot first and ask questions later was their way.
It had been two years. Two years of death. Two years of killing. At first it was hard for me to do, to kill another living thing. It is not easy to kill something that screams when you shoot it, but you get the hang of it. You learn to tune it out. They were invaders on my land. They killed my people, killed my family, took the first shot, launched the first bomb. They thought they could wipe us out and take our resources for themselves without a problem. They were wrong.

I remember the day the war started. I had kissed my wife and daughter good-bye. I got in my hovercar and backed out. As soon as I was in the street, a stray bomb hit by home, obliterated it, transforming it into a burning mass of death. I tried running into the house, in the hope that they might still be alive, but the fire was too hot. I wandered the streets for days, hiding, trying not to be killed.
A week went by when I had decided to join our newly formed army. I would make them pay in whatever small way I could. I thought killing them would ease the pane, but it didn’t, it just dulled it for a while. But the dulled out periods were better than thinking of my list family, so I kept fighting.
That was two years ago, and now it seems as if I’m trapped in the war. I no longer fight for revenge, but in the hope are planet will be free once more. I fought for peace. I just prayed the fighting would not go in vain.

I walked over my latest battlefield looking for any survivors. We had won this battle, we had been winning many lately and it looked as if we might actually drive the Invaders back to their home. Bodies of my fellow soldiers and the enemy lay all around me. I heard a moan to my left.
I turned and found a young soldier lying on the ground. We were quick learners and had learned how to speak their language quick enough. The soldier could not move his legs, and when he saw me fear filled his eyes and he feebly tried pulling himself away with his arms, but it was no use. I stood over him with my gun pointed at his head.
“Please, please don’t kill me,” cried the soldier. He was young, more of a kid than an adult. They were desperate, sending in soldiers this young. “Please, please don’t.”
“Why?” I asked him.
“Because I was drafted. I didn’t want to fight this war. I had no choice.” He was really breaking my heart.
“Have you killed anyone?” I asked him.
“What?” He looked confused. “Don’t lie to me. I’ll know.” I stood there, waiting for his response. When he still didn’t answer I yelled, “I asked you a question! Have you killed anyone?”
“Yes, but they were trying to kill me!”
“And why shouldn’t they? You invaded our land and killed many of my people with a very cowardly sneak attack. Our camps are already overloaded with prisoners of war. Why shouldn’t I kill you. I need a good reason.” I put more pressure on the trigger.
“I just want to go home,” said the soldier.
“Where would that be?” I asked him.
“A place called California, on the planet Earth. I just want to see my wife again. She’s pregnant. Is that a good reason?” he asked me.
“It’s a good reason,” I said, and pulled the trigger. He squeezed his eyes shut, bracing for the shot that didn’t come. All that came was a dry click. I took the bullet out of the chamber. It was a dud, a bad firing pin on the bullet. I’ve fired thousands and thousands of bullets, and this was my first dud. I looked down at the boy. “I don’t test fate, human. For some reason you are not meant to die, so I will not kill you, but you are on your own. Good luck.” I walked away, leaving him to his fate. He was on an alien planet, desolate and baron. He would need all the luck he could get. It wasn’t my problem though. The battle is over. Another victory closer to peace. Peace after the war brought by these Invaders, these humans.

PotatoFamine
02-15-2006, 01:38 PM
The Invaders


I have been fighting in the war for our planet for two years now. Two very long years. I am part of the infantry command, a foot soldier, part of the team who has to clean up the leftovers after the bombers sweep the battlefields. It is a war over our planet, a war fighting for the continuation of our own existence.
We never asked for a war. The Invaders, as they are commonly referred to, came without warning. They started shooting before they broke the atmosphere. The most damage was done within the first hour, a sneak attack that decimated fifteen percent of our population. I, like most other males who were able to, signed up to defend our planet immediately. We had been without war for two hundred years, so no one had ever fought, which left us at a great disadvantage. The first on-foot fighting were massacres, we didn’t know what to do and we weren’t prepared for the cold-hearted creatures that were our enemy.
Our enemy was very similar to us. They had two eyes, two arms and legs, a nose and mouth. They breathed oxygen like us. It was later found out that the reason they had invaded us is because their planet had been exhausted of all it’s resources. We are a peaceful people. If they would have asked for our help, we would have done all we could, but that wasn’t their way. Shoot first and ask questions later was their way.
It had been two years. Two years of death. Two years of killing. At first it was hard for me to do, to kill another living thing. It is not easy to kill something that screams when you shoot it, but you get the hang of it. You learn to tune it out. They were invaders on my land. They killed my people, killed my family, took the first shot, launched the first bomb. They thought they could wipe us out and take our resources for themselves without a problem. They were wrong.

I remember the day the war started. I had kissed my wife and daughter good-bye. I got in my hovercar and backed out. As soon as I was in the street, a stray bomb hit by home, obliterated it, transforming it into a burning mass of death. I tried running into the house, in the hope that they might still be alive, but the fire was too hot. I wandered the streets for days, hiding, trying not to be killed.
A week went by when I had decided to join our newly formed army. I would make them pay in whatever small way I could. I thought killing them would ease the pane, but it didn’t, it just dulled it for a while. But the dulled out periods were better than thinking of my list family, so I kept fighting.
That was two years ago, and now it seems as if I’m trapped in the war. I no longer fight for revenge, but in the hope are planet will be free once more. I fought for peace. I just prayed the fighting would not go in vain.

I walked over my latest battlefield looking for any survivors. We had won this battle, we had been winning many lately and it looked as if we might actually drive the Invaders back to their home. Bodies of my fellow soldiers and the enemy lay all around me. I heard a moan to my left.
I turned and found a young soldier lying on the ground. We were quick learners and had learned how to speak their language quick enough. The soldier could not move his legs, and when he saw me fear filled his eyes and he feebly tried pulling himself away with his arms, but it was no use. I stood over him with my gun pointed at his head.
“Please, please don’t kill me,” cried the soldier. He was young, more of a kid than an adult. They were desperate, sending in soldiers this young. “Please, please don’t.”
“Why?” I asked him.
“Because I was drafted. I didn’t want to fight this war. I had no choice.” He was really breaking my heart.
“Have you killed anyone?” I asked him.
“What?” He looked confused. “Don’t lie to me. I’ll know.” I stood there, waiting for his response. When he still didn’t answer I yelled, “I asked you a question! Have you killed anyone?”
“Yes, but they were trying to kill me!”
“And why shouldn’t they? You invaded our land and killed many of my people with a very cowardly sneak attack. Our camps are already overloaded with prisoners of war. Why shouldn’t I kill you. I need a good reason.” I put more pressure on the trigger.
“I just want to go home,” said the soldier.
“Where would that be?” I asked him.
“A place called California, on the planet Earth. I just want to see my wife again. She’s pregnant. Is that a good reason?” he asked me.
“It’s a good reason,” I said, and pulled the trigger. He squeezed his eyes shut, bracing for the shot that didn’t come. All that came was a dry click. I took the bullet out of the chamber. It was a dud, a bad firing pin on the bullet. I’ve fired thousands and thousands of bullets, and this was my first dud. I looked down at the boy. “I don’t test fate, human. For some reason you are not meant to die, so I will not kill you, but you are on your own. Good luck.” I walked away, leaving him to his fate. He was on an alien planet, desolate and baron. He would need all the luck he could get. It wasn’t my problem though. The battle is over. Another victory closer to peace. Peace after the war brought by these Invaders, these humans.
Soooooo, do ya want an opinion on it?

Rael
02-15-2006, 02:45 PM
Yes, please. Good or bad, please tell me what you think, I don't get mad if you think it sucks. I guess I should have said that earlier.

Kaeos
02-18-2006, 07:24 PM
:D A good short. Nice twist at the end. Maybe more to follow? You set up a scene very quickly and run the gambit of 2 years worth of pain and struggle in 11 paragraphs. The protagonist's struggle and how he sees things is a little hard to pick up when the story moves so quickly from beginning to end.

If I may, here's a couple of points that could use a little spit polish

....I, like most other males who were able to, signed up to defend our planet immediately.

then you said,

I wandered the streets for days, hiding, trying not to be killed.
A week went by when I had decided to join our newly formed army.

I always try to go back and look for inconsistancies in things like timeline. Especially when I describe someone's feelings or state of mind at the moment I am describing. Also, and again this goes to bringing the reader fully into what you are trying to build - if he wandered for days, trying not to be killed, ho did he find the recruitment office? All I'm suggesting is maybe set the stage in a little more detail.


We were quick learners and had learned how to speak their language quick enough.

:ohwell: Re-read. Then read it again. Put it away for at least a full day or more, then read it one more time. If a sentence like that still makes sense to you afterward, then you win dude. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise:wink:

“What?” He looked confused. “Don’t lie to me. I’ll know.” I stood there, waiting for his response. When he still didn’t answer I yelled, “I asked you a question! Have you killed anyone?”
Maybe just nit picking, but my 10th grade creative writing teacher beat into my head that you never put more than 1 person's dialogue into one sentence.

“Yes, but they were trying to kill me!”
“And why shouldn’t they? You invaded our land and killed many of my people with a very cowardly sneak attack. Our camps are already overloaded with prisoners of war. Why shouldn’t I kill you. I need a good reason.” I put more pressure on the trigger.
Here's where I would probably expect our hero to point out the loss of his family. Maybe a rumpled and half burnt photo in his breast pocket? This line is a bit transparent, not very believable for the moment you've set up here.


The battle is over. Another victory closer to peace. Peace after the war brought by these Invaders, these humans.

It's a good start man. Keep going, give us more detail. Don't be afraid to jab a cursor right smack into the middle of one of those paragraphs and keep the story going. But as I said earlier, put it down for a while, then go back and read it all again with a fresh perspective. Don't be afraid to change things around.

I'd love to see more.

P.S. Spell check dude. It can be your one true literary friend.

Rael
02-18-2006, 09:37 PM
Wow, thanks for the tips, they really help.

Not trying to make excuses (why is it that when someone says that, an excuse is sure to follow?), but this is something I got in my head, put it down, and then posted it. I definatly considering using this area for a much bigger story, maybe a parralel beween today's war.

Also, are you an Ebglish teacher, or someone involved with writing, because it sure sounds like it.

I am definatly going to post more stuff here.

Kaeos
02-19-2006, 08:56 AM
Also, are you an Ebglish teacher, or someone involved with writing, because it sure sounds like it.

Nope, just another unqualified hack hoping to make a $ in paperback someday. Here's my first public offering:

Wraith Chronicles (http://64.34.170.134/Cinescape/ubbthreads/showflat.php?Cat=&Board=UBB119&Number=193038&page=0&view=collapsed&sb=5&o=&fpart=1)