Novel Trench Novels & Stories

Ben said loudly and the wolves around him all nodded in agreement, their eyes bright with the prospect of victory. They quietly ran down the hill, everyone acutely aware that the success of their mission was dependant on them not being seen for a few hours yet. They ran toward the trench they had spent months digging. Wolves of all ages jumped into the trench and started digging furiously. Ben stood to watch over the workers, keeping a keen eye trained on the opening in the stone wall, waiting to see if they would be attacked. Nothing was happening. It was peculiar, typically there were dozens of humans around the stone wall at this time on the weekend. But now, there was nothing. Ben shifte

Even if the New World Royal City's wall was buried deep, would it reach that depth? Darryl continued to swim upward as he muttered in his heart. After he swam upward for a few more meters, he saw a deep and dark trench. 'Why is there a big trench under the moat?' Darryl was stunned; he went to take a closer look. He was flabbergasted! The trench led to a long walkway which was paved with bluestone. The opening was covered with sediment as it had been underwater for a long time. 'Where is this?'

I rolled my body and landed on the bird instead. The bird flew higher in the blue sky, which gave me a better view of the damage the demon had caused. I am tapping into my newfound ability, which is the power to zoom in on my vision. I was able to see everywhere clearly. The red sun glinted down the earth and glistened on the blood. Everything now resembles a trench field. The trenches were long, narrow ditches dug into the ground where soldiers lived. They were very muddy, and uncomfortable, and the toilet overflowed. The only difference is that this isn't a trench field, but a desert floor. It was as if Hitler himself was planning another D-Day attack, or he was upset because his army woke

“Two hours huh? Nightfall…they will need a tracker. Is that why she sought me?” The western passageway is one that separates the wilderness that is the home of the enemy from the trenches. It's secret as it had to be or the Sirens could focus and attack it. The dirt that separates the tranches from the forest ground staves the growth. With every vine trying to crawl over into the trench, a pink electric shock of power revibrates along the plants spouting appendage. Butcher leans on the left side of the opening, his armor is that of a scout and matches the very same as Norvin. His arms are folded and his eyes are closed. Two heart seekers sit on each side of him. Both of the beasts sit and st

And you were born in 1987, in the late 60s, at the end of the century, in a time of lit hysteria of the mind. And I was born right next to you. Tunnel #5 ( * ) I change shapes just to hide in this place But I’m still, I’m still an animal. - Mike Snow Like Badang and the Singapore Stone of long ago I begin to fill up this hole spotted selflessly on this avenue with something, something. Boys and girls play together seeking their form hiding in dark alleys, four by four they come running, running

The trench is not hostile. Sarah once told me that at this depth a human body would not drown first. It would be crushed into a lesson. Air spaces collapse. Blood gases misbehave. The soft places fail before the mind has time to name the pain. She said it while checking a pressure valve with a sandwich in her other hand, because Sarah stores horror in practical drawers. Hostile would imply it noticed you. The trench does not bother. It just keeps pressing until the soft parts fail. Three knocks come from the other side of the hull.

Pal’lacon’s says And then we saw the trench. Located at the edge of the Eastern walls of the fort was an incredibly long trench filled with dead bodies. All laid down rather neatly with their hands folded on their chests. They weren’t wearing armor but their tunics were kept. Along the edges of the trench were men filling it up with soil while a knight was kneeling down on one knee, clearly in prayer. As we drew nearer to the trench, I realized that it wasn’t only men in the trench. There were women too, dead medicae with their burnt uniforms still on them. Though a dead body was never a surprise to us, every soldier in the Company felt the burn of horror as we saw them realizing that the ru

" in a desperate manner. Like thunder, their iron-shod feet slammed against the freezing earth. A hail of nasty, barbed fire arrows rained down from the dark sky. Before striking their targets, they sizzled and sizzled. Magma-red blood spewed into the air in fountains. It was like a heinous crime. Trolls were excavating, digging lines of deep trenches in a vast ring, just out of bowshot from the walls, as if they were ants, and each tunnel was loaded with fire, but how it was done was unknown. No one could tell if it was sparked or fed by art or devilry. The men stood by helplessly while the labor progressed throughout the day. They could see gigantic wains approaching as each length of the

This was different, probably because of the stretches of nothing since they'd passed through a village a few miles back. On one side of the trench the earth was green. The sky was a little gray. Dew clung to the ground on both sides. Word was the Daurian president was rallying support to build a literal wall around the country. By all accounts the trench border was good enough. Few people fled the country as it was.

The northern defensive trench of Silver Ridge was a ditch of freezing mud and sharp black slate, cut directly into the lip of the ravine. Sleet hammered the dirt, turning the parapets into a cascading slick of ice. The air up here didn't just smell of winter; it was thick with the foul, oily stench of Alaric’s vanguard scouts—burnt tallow, chemical blue fuel, and the distinct copper odor of active blood-reagents.