Memoir Of War Novels & Stories

He trusted him and That made it unbearable. “I’m sorry,” Adrian whispered. Then he forced it. The memories didn’t come gently. They didn’t return like fragments. They flooded, War, Blood, Fire, Hunger, Loss, Pain, The bond, The shared body, The atrocities, The moments of weakness, The moments of choice, The moments of becoming something unforgivable. All of it. At once.

I stumbled and fell on a corpse, it was the elderly woman, I looked around me taunted by the lifeless faces surrounding me, slaughtered like Christmas chickens. My heart beating heavily as I slowly stood, the fallen were not weaklings, they were the bravest people in the world, they had remained unwavered by the fluctuations, lived even when death was near, loved when it seemed too stupid. They had built a strong connection, a family united by war and even when a comrade fell, they still remained humans. They never gave up on living, each new day, they would smile faintly and perform the task ahead. I tried to escape from the piles of corpses, each step clouding more tears to my hearts. I kn

The war had finally taken place. As the heavy sounds of cannonade were the only thing people heard from the outskirts of the kingdom, they moved to the inner kingdom completely abandoning their homes which was a plus point for their opposing partners. As the war spread to the insides of both the kingdoms by their opposing partners, cannons were thrown at the small towns and cities endangering many people, but that was when both the kings started to realize their grave mistake and the war came to an end without any winners. Caldorus was gravely affected while Dajoah only had the outskirts of the kingdom be affected as the insides of the kingdom were safe.

His gaze drifted far away, no longer on the site or the people around us. “Yeah,” he finally said. “A long time ago.” He let out a soft breath. “I was young. Too young, honestly. Didn’t really understand what I was stepping into.” His eyes flickered slightly, like he was seeing something I couldn’t. “Out there, you don’t get time to think. It’s just move, fight, survive… or you don’t.” I watched him carefully, trying to read between his words. “But people always think war has to be something big,” he went on. “Armies, history books, all that. Truth is… it doesn’t take much.”

No holding back. This was war. And it had just become personal in a way there was no coming back from.

It was weird to be here again after so long, it didn't feel like my house, I doubted if any place could ever feel like home. It didn't take me more than twenty minutes to give everything a place. Two of the bags were clothes, one box was filled with just books, spread over the two boxes since the weight would have been too heavy for one box, one half of a box was makeup and everything needed to take care of myself and one half was letters I had received in juvie. The last bag was only CDs.

He looked every bit the war hero the country adored— stoic, composed, untouchable. But i remembered the boy who'd pull my pigtails and grin crookedly whenever he caught a fish. The boy was long gone. The string quartet played a hollow waltz. Servants in black jackets moved with grace between tight circles of conversation. In one corner, someone laughed too loudly. In another two aides argued quietly in a diplomatic tone. "I see only your mother attended," Darrell said . I nodded. "She had to see her only daughter off and she doesn't believe in making scenes,"

The last man left standing was struck by a hammer in the head by one of the soldiers until his skull was completely crushed, blood and parts of his brain splattered all over. Nazi soldiers cheered and celebrated their first kill. As the music continued so were the brutal killings happening in front of them. Soldiers were served Beef Roulade for their main course, a traditional German dish featuring long, thin strips of meat slathered with mustard and filled with bacon, onions, and pickles. "Please excuse me Mikhail, I have lost my appetite". The girl threw her napkin on the table and stood up. Mikhail, too amused by the game, didn't care to hear her out.

wasn't about success or surgery. It was about war.

Although the dish was meant to be a beautiful cream white, since he’d have to add blood to Alaster plate, it would take from the aesthetic beauty of the dish. “Is that your first memory?” Josh asked. The great war had taken place nearly a hundred years ago, two great nations reduced to rumble over a petty pride that had done no one good. Every time Josh read about such a defining time in history, he felt like rolling his eyes, the foolish behaviour of humans just utterly embarrassing. “God no, the war happened just yesterday. My first memory I think is when carriages were first invented,” Alaster said now rubbing his chin. “How old are you!” Josh gasped, slapping his moth just in time to blo