((This was a story I wrote for English class. cnc please!!!)) Nighttime. Her favorite. The air was cool and above her, the clouds drifted lazily across the black and purple sky. Anyone would have thought, at this point, that this was a normal night. But no, they would be terribly wrong. Screams filled the air and gunshots from far off tore at her heart. Here, in this crude, hospital it was anything but normal. Broken bones, seared flesh, cries that would make your blood run cold. And her blood ran so cold that she wished to lay down and die. No, there was no time to die, she must care for the wounded that were coming in by the squads. More or less, ten at a time with intervals of five minutes. There was, however, one problem: How could she heal wounds that she knew nothing about? Oh yes, bones she could set, burns she could soothe, but this? This was a foreign enemy. This wound spread and in at the most, in an hour the victim would be dead. And torn. And broken. The smell was terrible. most everyone had either died or left. Suddenly gunshots echoed closer and then footsteps. The men who had cause this carnage sprinted in and quickly and methodically wiped out all of the wounded that she had tried so hard to save. They would kill all of them! She was outraged. In desperation, she grabbed a machine gun from the unfortunate guards, and open fired on the devils. Most of them fell but the rest turned, their faces livid. Just before they fired, she crossed herself and said a silent prayer to her patron saint. "Sweet Saint Joan, let me die with grace. That was all she had time to think before they fired. Her body was on fire and she screamed(an unearthly sound) the name of her saint, and then as she was falling, the name of her savior. Enough strength resided in her to keep her body from squirming. The men clomped over(for their boots were huge) and proceeded to kick her half to death. All the while she prayed hard and fast over and over again. Finally when she thought she would lose her self control, one soldier, God bless him, shoved past the others, aimed at her head and fired. Then she felt nothing. Now she was in a pale white light, being embraced by Joan d'Arc herself. "Well done......my sister," she said, her voice kind and musical. "Come, now you will meet your king." ((Note: I'm terrible at names so that's why no one but Joan has a name in here.))
well, that was kind of...sad. I liked it but maybe it should explain a bit more, even when it's not that long.
