Just to let you know my post was adapted from one of the general reactions of German Panzer units passing through a Russian village only to be ambushed by resistance forces... I love history so I made it into fantasy... An Ausf H is a common variant of a PzKpfw IV tank an extremly common tank family. a Mosin-Nagant is a bolt-action rifle from 1895 used by Russian forces. But I like how you guys adapted it and added more color. especially ly's which was only misguided because my original post was FUBAR...

But hold on while i do LSD's in iambic pentameter. (I have American poetry this quarter in English.)

After your explanation, I went back and re-read it and it made so much sense. Yours was not FUBAR...mine was waaaay off base however.

Anyhoo...my point is this. Had you not explained, I would not have known the beasts were tanks. When I first read it my imagination just took over and saw them as beasts of fantasy.

Amazing how in knowing the history of a thing it makes that thing more knowable. HUH?? did that make any sense at all except to me??

I actually wanted to see a medevil fantasy twist to that.. I liked it and yes you did make sense.. But only because i was off my meds... and screw iambic pentameter I'm stuck...

that's gonna be a tuffy.
gonn hafta think on that one.

Darkened day, twisted from a foul night of complete loss and sacrificial mutilation. Day, twisted a foul from a night of dread. Twisted from them, like a blood stain hurricane, I heard her screams, GIRL!

The black acrid smoke spiraled in to the dusky sky, blotting out the retreating sun and creating a false night. The star's twinkle was overwhelmed by the twinkles of the Burning quosent huts islands of light slowly being extinguished casting light on caucasian males in combat with a tan enemy. The light flickering on their bodies in a death stance, frozen with twisted limbs some in combat others pleading for mercy or praying to an impotent god that had decided that their life was to be forfeit, impaled on spears, skin gouged with arrows like quills from a hedgehog peircing a predator. Unnatural holes tearing the body asunder cleanly and asymetrically. Scalps lay piled by a subdued fire that was once raging and their former owner's no longer having need of them as their blood was spilt.

A hoof tread upon the blood red ground the huts now embers, only smoldering swallowed by still black smoke and the approaching premature night. Upon the equine mount a man of his prime wearing a cotton blue uniform with trim and insignia denoting his position of leadership. A carbine lay across his saddle and a saber in it's polished black scabbard dangling from his waist, a golden colored cord tied it to his belt. This was a man who when he wasn't with his family raising the life he created, he killed and led men to be killed charging with the vanguard on his hazelnut mount into the maw of the enemy force. He was paid to take life so that he could raise the one he created. "Steady, Eve..." He spurred his horse onward his scabbard clanking against the horse's quivering flank. He montioned to the men behind him similarly attired in Blue uniforms and armed with sabers and a plethora of other small-arms who were also mounted. The men hesitated to enter a place where the echos of violence and cruelty lingered. "Ye heard tha' man buys muv' it onwerd!!" a thick Irish voice barked out, the man was obviously a sergeant of some sort and spurred his orange colored mount forward. The continued through until they reached the ritual fire ring where the scalps lay and whereupon the troop (company) dismounted to search for survivors. "Sergeant," the commander beckoned his Irish sergeant over a man of hair vibrantly colored as the setting sun and mutton chops of the same color making him harder to take seriously. "Have the men collect and burn the native corpses and shoot any survivors on sight." he ordered his sergeant. "Aye' suh." he grunted and walked away shouting the orders he just recieved and sending the men scurrying like ants to collect the bodies and restart the smoldering fire.


While he surveyed the rest of the village with a few men he glimpsed a shadow moving among the ruins. "Suh didya ya' see that?" one of the African American calvarymen named Polaski asked him nervously "Yes, I did. Draw your weapons a nd move slowly Driscoll and Johanseen stay here and cover me and Polaski. The two of them slowly snuck up to the ruins they saw the shadow at last and when they were about 7 feet away the a figure sprung from it's cover holding a spear. "Over there fire!!!" And from their repeating weapons he and Polaski unleashed a fusillade of fire at the figure that then collapsed face first into the ground in a clumsy dive inspired by the impact of a bullet into it's body which continued crawling with the spear. "Polaski go finish it off and bring me back that body." The young negro ran up to the body and fired into the head. Polaski flipped the body over than let loose in a keening wail "GIIRRRRLLLL!!!!" He jogged over with the body. "Suh " he cried "It was just a little squaw she's the same size of my daughter, hell she could of been my daughter." he continued sobbing but there was not time for the troop's captain to repremand the young soldier as a trap was sprung that would restart the cycle of violence.

Thank you as much as i hate english it's my best class...

I got an Idea for one: A flash brightened the dark room for a second. Then there was the sound of rapid footsteps a crash and then a gasp of pain. then he could only see a body being dragged away and a woman weeping.

“GIRL”!!! I screamed into the foul air of darkened daylight, tossing rubbish out of my way as I went. Reaching down beneath the rubble of what was just hours ago, our home, I scavenged for anything that felt remotely warm. Nothing. I would try again…I could hear her breathing or was that me? How many times had I raked through this muddy ruin? Twice? Ten? A thousand times? I must continue…what if she’s alive and waiting for me? How could I ever forgive myself if she died outside my arms. “GIRL”!!!! I cried. My hands were bleeding from tossing twisted wood and debris and yet I felt no pain. My clothes hung from my body, dripping wet, soiled from the mad rush of sea water that swallowed up our house in a foul night of complete loss and sacrifical mutilation. My feet, caked with sand were raw from the once silken stuff.

Exhausted by panic I dropped to my knees and covered my red, swollen eyes and wept. “GIRL”!! I sobbed until the tears were gone and only the ache of loneliness clenched my gut…then nothing. I was numb…and alone. Then, I heard it. I heard her scream like a blood stained hurricane… “GIRL”!!!

That's actually a lot better than mine. My perspectives are always millitaryish but i never would have thought of that, good job.

this sounds fun i wanna join but i can't think of anything?? hmm i will check back later

I'll post a new one verry soon then

cool

I will give it a try if it;s not to complicated.

This is way to difficult for me...my brain is...not evolved.

Poor Grugg (We'll let you off the hook) (go play with your panda)

I'm interested as well, but I too cannot think of anything.