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THE END OF WAR

My eyes blinked, again and again. I was staring at the havoc globe, havoc globe of hell.
Suddenly a sharp yelling hit me as the absurdity hit me. The brown lifeless globe, was
made deafeningly lifeful.

The ground was engraved with wet musky mud while being utterly dry too. Every step
was fuming of dirt up to you, and if you were unlucky enough, splattering of mud.
Everything, everything was brown and grey; the sky, the ground, even our men, all
mousy and leaden. The ground was embedded with men, men walking, men running,
men shouting, men rushing to the green dismal healing van. A shrilling noise rose from
the side. My eyes were viewing vans and buses, vans and buses, everywhere, people
hoping on them, clinging on them. Just to escape. The other soldiers alongside at me,
pointed towards the ship, a derelict, crumbling ship with wavering, ragged sails,
swinging dubiously and meekly towards certainty. The heavens were sheltered with a
glasshouse of pewter smoke, while the amusement of the Ferris wheel petered away
with the eddying mist.

I was feeling overwhelmed, overwhelmed with shocked, discontent. The feeling of
debacle and melancholy filled my stomach as my spine twitched with nostalgia of more
chaos. Chaos of war, chaos of flee, chaos of humanity. Lunacy took over my mind as I
stared, and kept on staring, because I couldn’t stop, we had caused this destruction, and
I did too. I went against the world, world of humanity and now the world was anarchy
and turmoil. My body shivered, shivered with insanity, as I stared at every face.
Scrutinized every face of nostalgia as we were getting ready to flee.

The frowsy smell entered my nose as the musty and stale aroma took over the debris.
Malodorous stench of the unfeeling men filled the troposphere. The shrill of our
dictator commanded us to drag ourselves towards the ship. The ship that would take us
home. We were introduced to a tonic smell, that particular smell of salt and wet wood
and sail cloth.

The fellow soldiers pushed and shoved, frantic to get to the boat. Hysterical to go home
as the air continued to engulf the remaining mortality. We dragged our feet, puffing to
the ground as each step was a rattling of tools from our bag, wind flowing in our
clothes, sweat dripping from our heads.