This is a piece of flash fiction I wrote on a plane back in August and I just now brought out of my files.
I leveled my gun and fired. I didn’t care where my bullet went. No one did. We were all just trying to win this war. The screaming had started at dawn that morning when we started fighting. It hadn’t stopped yet and we were coming up on nighttime. I felt like screaming myself just from having to hear it.
I took a deep breath and tried to steel myself as I fired again.
There was a yell directly following my shot.
Maybe they were right, maybe girls weren't really meant for war. Because at that moment, I was shaken to the core. I wanted to shout or cry. But instead, I did the unthinkable. I jumped over our barricade.
I could see who I had hit right away. There was a young man lying on the ground right in front of me.
I didn’t look around me, I didn’t see if anyone was shooting at me. All I could think was that this young man was going to die if I didn’t get him out.
Why he was different then all the people I shot that day, I didn’t know. But I couldn’t stop myself.
He groaned as I pulled him into a standing position. But he was able to stand with his arm around my neck. He could barely drag himself through the fight with my help .
I couldn’t go to his army or mine, so we shuffled along until we reached a group of trees, just past the battle.
I let him down so he was leaning against a tree and then ripped off my jacket. Blood already coated it from where he had bled onto it while I helped him. Now I wadded it up and pressed it against the wound in his side.
His dirty blond hair fell down onto his forehead as he pinched his eyes closed for a moment in pain.
I started trembling as the weight of what I had done came to rest on me. I had just helped the enemy.
But I held the cloth to his side. He needed me.
I glanced up at his face just as he opened his icy blue eyes. Pain didn’t diminish the brightness of those eyes.
“Why are you helping me?” He whispered.
I stared at him, unable to tear my eyes away.
“I don’t know.” My voice almost broke trying to talk.
He studied me for a minute. He knew I was from the other side. We both knew.
I expected him to say something along the lines of how much he hated me for my loyalty.
But he did the unthinkable. He held out his hand in a gesture of friendship.
“I am Ivy.”
So, what did you think?