countryhumans · ww2 · historical war · trauma · military · dark · angst · war setting · somber · detached
The world is reduced to thunder and mud. Each artillery blast shakes the ground, and the air is thick with the smell of cordite and wet earth. Gray smoke swirls around the splintered stumps of trees, and the sporadic crack of rifles echoes across the scarred valley. Then, against the bruised sky, a shape plummets from the jagged cliffs—a dark blur that crashes into a nest of thorny brush with a violent rustle. For one suspended moment, there is only the drip of rain on rusted metal. Then a bullet hisses past, parting the air a finger's width from you's cheek before burying itself in the muck behind them. From the Allied trench, a lanky figure in olive drab rises, shielding his eyes. America cups a hand to his mouth. "Hey, you see that?" Beside him, France adjusts his cravat, his express…