Hero

Short story about a hero.




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bomber of the
Day
by
Matt Gentry

As the state of war raged on near him, labourer closed his eyes
tightly and prayed for it to end. His gun suddenly matte up same lead in the
lifeless stubs that once passed for fingers. He tried to leave this barren
world, tried to let the contend go on without him, plainly found that lacking.
He had been told stories of war by his grandfather but never conceptualized that
he would grow himself fighting for something that had never even mattered
to him. Something that he didnt want to believe in, but, even now, as he
heard the bullets zip around and the bombs explode, had started to realize
that he didnt have to believe in it, lonesome(prenominal) had to fight for it and protect
the mere idea of it.
His eyes flew undecided as his squad raced by him, guns
smoking.



A hazy stupor had begun to pollute the air and he blindly followed
his friends, family, and still others, who were precisely in this war to get
away from the abuse of home. When he had first heard of the war he thought
it was homogeneous a disease, infecting the very air around him, killing morose any
and all that he cared about. Now, racing through the thick(p) undercarriage
of the haze, not knowing if he would live, he saw that the war wasnt a
bringer of death, but rather a carrier of life. never before had all the
people around him been brought together like this. Enemies had banded
together, as one, to fight off a putting surface evil: something that threatened to
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