Depressed Soldier Novels & Stories

(Soldier) This fact not only shocked Mage Wilson who heard the report of the soldier but, this also shocked every soldier on the wall that were nearby. By then the morale of Hallerus Soldier at the wall has plummeted, in an instant everything turned gloomy as their leader was gone. As for Mage Wilson, he can see clearly that his future are just getting a tad more darker by the seconds.

The soldier continued, looking as frightened as anything, his skin turning pale and his face washed off of any and every color. Dimian looked away from him, noticing that the wind had picked up and was howling, his tent shook violently like it would soon be ripped off the pins holding them down securely, but that was not the only sounds that reached his ears. Screams, men screaming in terror and fear. His men. He walked past the soldier and out the tent and the sight that met his eyes weaken his morale. The soldier followed him out of the tent and came to stand beside the commander, shielding his face from the debris and dust flying wildly around, then in a louder voice so Dimian could hear

“Yes, sir.” “Bloody Picts, they ravaged and burnt it beyond our ability to recover.” Hands flipped the horizontal soldier over. “Yes, he’s breathing, sir. First one we’ve found in the territory.” The hoof beats stopped nearby, but the eyes of the soldier didn’t open. “By the gods, look at him, covered in blood and filth, his shield broken and no sword.” Many hands shook him. “Come on, soldier.” A voice commanded, “State your name and rank, soldier.”

Looking at the frenzied man beside her, the female soldier clenched her fist. “Sir, your daughter can’t enter the base! She’s infected! If we let her in, then it’s not but suicide, do you hear me?” “SHUT UP! LET MY DAUGHTER IN! SHE’S NOT INFECTED! SHE’S NOT!” The man behind the female soldier yelled with a distorted expression. He looked so desperate and scared. Not so far from the man was a woman, who’s crying miserably while being held by a male soldier.

She deserved peace. Meghan’s POV. I patiently listened to his story as I suppressed his negative feelings, enabling him to calm down and relax. He was a troubled man; I could see it from the way he was, the way he talked and the way he behaved. He had low esteem for himself—irrespective of his nature and rank. He deemed himself useless and he was deeply depressed. He was traumatised and that hurt me more than he could ever know.

Kind of. The soldiers had stitched him together. Limbs held with crude thread, skin rotted in places, black with infection. Flies buzzed at his face. His body stank like decay. But at least he still breathed. His eyes were hollow, sunken deep into his skull. His once-muscular body was reduced to a crawling echo of ruin. “Do you have any last words?” “To everyone… I’m… sorry… for… what I did.” His voice was hardly audible. Daemonikai had severed his vocal cords, and he ended up coughing up a storm. Perhaps they hadn’t healed right?

I felt my wolf stir uneasily. Something wasn’t right. ⸻ One of the soldiers suddenly stopped. His breathing got ragged. “My mother…” He stared into the darkness ahead. “No…” “There was nothing I could’ve done.” Before anyone could react he dropped his sword. Stumbled toward an empty corner of the corridor. “I said I’m sorry!” He collapsed to his knees. Tears streamed down his face. “There was no medicine!” Rowan reached him first grabbing his shoulders. “Look at me!” The soldier didn’t respond.

Young. “Come back, all of you,” he shouted but they were past caring. They got to the scene and saw corpses that were burnt and the ones that were half dead. However, the first soldier drew inferences from the number of casualties and concluded that some of them were Sgt. Young. “Oh, this is a shame to my country!” He cried out in anguish and pulled out his handgun from his breast pocket. He pointed it at his temple and pulled the trigger. “Stop,” another soldier yelled and kicked the gun out of his hand.

The tattooed man picked up a knife in the corner, walked up to the soldier I was pointing at, and stabbed him in the heart. The soldier groaned in pain. Blood gushed from his chest like a fountain, staining his bare upper body. A low moan continued from his mouth. Impatiently, the tattooed man held his knife and stabbed him several times. He didn't stop until the soldier had no voice at all! The strong smell of blood filled the room, and the women's expressions were cold and numb, as if they were used to it. In their eyes, the dead soldier is nothing more than a dog or a mouse, not worthy of sympathy!

“My wife, Mishka, met you this morning. What’s exactly wrong with her?” Christian asked, and Dr James took a sip of his drink. “She is suffering from melancholic depression.” Dr James states and Christian’s heart skipped a beat. FLASHBACK “Send the next patient in,” Dr James asked the nurse, who was waiting for his instruction. The door of the cabin opened again and Mishka stepped in. “Please take a seat,” Dr James said while writing something on his writing pad.