My essay for an English project on the senses. Thought I might as well post it here to get some good cronstructive criticism before I turn it in!
Disclaimer - OMIGAWD, I DON'T HAVE TO DO ONE OF THOSE ON THIS SITE! WAHOO!
Summary - I don't know how much more time I have, sitting here idle. My heart remains in my ears, but this I cannot bring myself to regret. This battle, this bloody feild, this damned town... This is Gettysburg. We will win this war. (ESSAY)
Written in - First Person
Screen-play - Surreal, with muted noise and dark colors. Main character is a faceless soldier.
So here ya go…
Deadliest Chess: The Battle of Gettysburg!
It's July 1st, 1863, 11:25 AM. There has been a momentary cease fire, and my brigade has been called in to help General Meade and his exhausted troops. A battle has broken out, supposedly around 8:00 AM. My general, General Doubleday, had only been given a moment to brief us, so I know oly three things: We're stationed at Gettysburg, we're fighting the Confederates, and we're to wait for his order to charge. There are many other Union battalions here, led by Generals Buford, Reynolds, and Hancock. But none of them are as skilled as us!
As I reload my gun, I can feel the blast of far-off cannons shake the ground, sending debris flying into the air. It coats the field like a blanket, getting into my eyes, mouth, and hair. It tastes like a bad batch of bread, all salty and gritty. I'm scared of death. So many people have died on the field. The smell lingers around our side of the battlefield, and it smells of fire and sweat and blood. None of this seems real, like it's some sort of game. Chess, maybe. I get your pawn. I get your knight. I get your King. Game over. But every "pawn" is a person, and every person matters. You can't leave a single man behind. You also can't take your time and plot out every move. Split-second decisions can make or break the battle, and failure is not an option.
My weapon is cold, harsh and unfeeling, and is made of a metal that glints in the sunlight. I know that the minute I enter the battlefield it will come alive like a beehive, unassuming until I set it off. Suddenly, someone's screaming in my ear. I glance over to see General Meade on the top of a cannon, pointing at the enemy. I can't hear him, I can only hear the pounding in my head. My body responds before my head realizes what I'm doing. I run forward blindly, with my gun at the ready. I can hear triumphant cries from my comrades. I realize they're yelling to charge. I take up the battle cry, joyful and proud. It echoes like a song over the field.
Now that the battling has restarted, I can feel the ground underneath my feet dip and curve, solid in some places, rocky in others. My gun goes off toward one of the enemy, exploding in a burst of heat. I duck down to reload, so I don't see whether the bullet hit its intended target. My heart beats wildly to the beat of the cannons, like a drum. All my previous fear is gone, and has been replaced by nothingness. I feel like a machine, just doing my job.
I can smell the thousands of pounds of gunpowder used. Though I'm used to the smell, it's still suffocating, and makes me cough. Bits of ash float through the air. They almost seem like gray butterflies, lazily drifting on the wind. I crouch low to the uneven ground to move forward. I can hear the various sounds of our struggle above me, us "blues" versus those darn Graybacks. We will win this war!
I'm really not expecting any reviews for this... PROVE ME WRONG!