I'm doing something a little bit different here on my blog. I'll be posting short stories once in a while (hopefully bi-weekly or at least once a month) and give a little insight into to how I conceived them. The first short story of this blog series is Front.
Front is the first story I've written for a short story contest. The contest was the "Awesome Authors" contest, which was run by the Ottawa Public Library. At first I didn't hear about this contest until my sister told me about it. By this time, there was over a month left until the deadline. I was working on another full-length story at the time and I wasn't interested in stalling that to work on something else. I ended up doing the contest anyway because I have never done a contest like this before, and I figured the experience would be interesting.
It took me about a month to write Front, even though it just ended up being two pages (which was the max length allowed). For me, writing a short story is very different from writing a full-length book. I usually write stories that focus on entertainment rather than leaving an important message. With Front I had to do the reverse because judges want to see works that make them think and have great imagery. I spent a lot of time trying to think of a story that could utilize imagery effectively. With my fascination in military, I decided to write a war story, of sorts.
Here's how I would sum up my inspirations for Front; TVOKids, Call of Duty, Battlefield, and, a World War One book I had to read in Grade 12, Erich Maria Remarque's All Quiet on the Western Front. I know, it's a weird list. But then again, how many writers get inspiration simultaneously from a video game, book, and TV channel?
I'm quite proud of how well-written Front was. I had to push myself to elevate my writing to the next level, and the fact that I earned an award for it was a great validation. I hope you enjoy Front as much as I did writing it.
I couldn’t sleep again last night. The front can have that effect on you. The explosions caused by the bombardments of mortar shells. The gunfire. The horrific screaming. The painful crying. Dirt flying into your face. Smoke filling up your lungs. How can a person sleep after going through such disastrous experiences? And I had to go back there today. I don’t know if I’ll be able to handle it this time, but I have to. My country needs me, now more than ever.
I get out of my bed and hit the showers. Even though I washed up before going to sleep, it still feels like the blood and dirt is on me. On the front fashion didn’t matter, you’d end getting extra makeup all over your face, and you wouldn’t realize it until you took a look at yourself in the mirror. No makeup on me for now.
I cook myself some breakfast before I leave; eggs, pancakes and sausages. It’s going to be awhile before I could have such delicious food again.
I pack up my bag and take in the silence and peacefulness of my home. You could have the worst day of your life – you lost your job, or you went through a tragic loss – your home would always be the thing that makes your day just a little bit better. It’s a place where you can find hope, peace, serenity and security. You never see that on the front.
I take the bus. Here is a different scene. People who are anxious to get to work on time, or people who are tense because they have to go someplace they don’t want to, or people who are forlorn and know their destination won’t take their pain of loneliness away, or people who are so joyful and optimistic about their day that any idea of forlornness is lost to them, or people who just take the bus to see the sights our country can provide. Buses are like blenders, where you find a bit of everything all in one place, unlike the front where you’re always reminded by the same dreadful thing.
In no time I find myself at that dreadful place once again. The front hasn’t changed at all. In the distance it seems like a place filled with potential like on any propaganda poster, but when you reel in close, it snatches you up like a Venus flytrap.
I arrive at the front door and ring its bell. My orders would probably be the same as on my previous tours. It never changes completely, but little details are always added each time, with each one getting more inferior and annoying by the next.
The door opens, and the general greets me.
“Hi David, how are you?”
I respond with integrity.
“I’m doing great.”
The general nods in favour of my optimism.
“Good. So the kids just finished eating lunch and they had a lot of sugar, so they’ll be extra energetic today.”
The enemy has more confidence today. That’s not good – the more confidence they have the bigger the chances of a full-scale attack.
“Junior lost his teddy bear Freddie somewhere, I don’t know where, he’s pretty upset by that so—"
Freddie is an HVI – High Value Individual. He used to run communications for the enemy until he decided to switch sides and provide us with information on the enemy’s advances. The good news is that he has helped save many lives, but the bad news is that the enemy knows he defected and is looking for him. No one knows his current location, but I’ll do my best to keep him safe from danger.
“And Charlie needs a diaper change. She made a huge mess during lunch and I didn’t have time to clean it up, so that’s on you.”
It seems the enemy has decimated our side with their mortar. This weapon has killed so many of our soldiers. It always seemed odd how just one weapon can cause so much destruction.
“And George got a water gun last week, so try not to let him use it in the house it’ll make a big mess.”
The enemy has advanced weaponry now? I better keep my eyes open on this mission, the stakes just got higher.
“So do you have any questions?”
Any general that asks you that question is testing your ability to follow orders. Ask a question, you fail and insult the general’s capabilities of being a leader.
“No I got it.”
“Great. My husband will be back at five, so don’t worry about cooking supper, but do make them a snack around three.”
“Alright.”
“Great, thank you so much David.”
The general relieves me and drives off. This is my responsibility now: protect the HVI and keep the enemy at bay. I was trained for this. Time to put that training into action.
***
The enemy overwhelms me again and I luckily find a hiding spot. I’m tired and bleeding to death. They really got me this time, but I must persevere. This war has to end once and for all.
I seek out the enemy, steal their weapon and hose them down. I’m so relieved. These monsters – these – who am I kidding? These kids aren’t the enemy, they are just kids. George just wants to play, Junior just wants to be reunited with his teddy bear and Charlie is just a toddler.
There is no war raging on, it’s just babysitting. I didn’t walk into a tattered battlefield, I walked into a home with cheerful and energetic kids. I took things way too far and lead myself to believe my job was a nightmare. I forgot the reason why I wanted to babysit: to watch over kids and play with them and make them laugh. Maybe the real enemy is me. Time to change that.
I leave the war life behind and make amends with the kids.