In The End
Jobby shivered when droplets of rain started to gradually fall. He looked up at the gray sky, waiting for something to happen. He raised his drumsticks in the air and beat the drum, igniting the war with a roar. The screams of battle rang through Jobby's eardrums as soldiers pointed their muskets at the opposite army. They marched through the damp and muddy field at the beat of his drum. He felt as if time slowed down when bullets started to fly past him, piercing soldiers bodies.
This all felt like a dream he had yesterday. He had dreamt he was walking through a field of dead soldiers, beating his drum as peach blossoms fell from the sky. Such a lonely parade it was. But this wasn't that dream, yet he prayed to God it was; this was real war. Thunder crackled at the same pace as his drum, creating a symphony of music. Jobby's hands quivered in fear when he heard screeches of pain and agony echo through out the field. The yells replayed in his mind, haunting him.
"I am not afraid!" he mused out loud to himself repeatedly. 'I can't give up. I-I will make it through and make the General proud!' The sound of his playing became stronger and louder.
And then he felt it. A burning fire spreading through his chest. It happened so quickly he almost hadn't felt it. But the pain soon struck him a pile of bricks. He dropped his drumsticks onto the grass and hollered for help as he saw blood gush out of his chest and trickle onto his drum. Jobby fell on his side and tears rolled his cheek to soak in with the blood stained earth. His hand clutched at the open wound but it just made it more painful.
"Mother! Father!" the boy screamed chorusing with the thunder. He hoped someone would hear him. But it was just as muted as a mouse. He saw soldiers run past him, not caring if he was wounded. He was just another unfortunate casualty. Jobby's body started to weaken when he started to crawl towards a small tree. Once he reached it, he rested against its trunk.
"We've won!" a soldier yelled waving his gun in the air like a flag. Soldiers cheered and chanted victory.
'It doesn't matter anymore. Nothing does. Nothing did. I'm sorry General…I-I failed you.' He looked up once more towards the flowers on the peach tree.
A small blossom fell from a branch like a feather; ever so slowly. He used his last breath to lift his hand into the air and attempt to catch a falling blossom. But nothing fell onto his palm. Maybe it was al just his imagination.~
Short story, I know. I just wanted to write something for that story I read in Reading class called "The Drummer Boy Of Shiloh by Ray Bradbury". I really liked the story yet I wanted to create an ending for it because it didn't exactly have the ending I wanted. And of course I had to write a dramatic death to please my crazy teenage head. I just love the dramatic endings...
Well the story took place in the United States Civil War time. Drummer boys aren't really talked about or given much credit(they were the lowest ranked) yet they did play a key roll in wars. They make many drum calls to give out commands and signals. Usually they are killed rather quickly since drummer boys were defenseless. Jobby, is thirteen I believe and ran away from home and joined the army.
I do NOT own the story by Ray Bradbury. I just wanted to make an extension to it...
...Hope you liked...