Grenade

I’ve had this idea in my head for a while, but I didn’t know where I’d actually go with it. I was thinking of writing up some kind of army story, but I don’t know enough about the military to write something that hasn’t already been done. Instead, I decided to work on my long, David Foster Wallace-like sentences. I noticed in many of my stories that I tend to write the same kinds of sentences over and over again. I never push the boundaries. I want to change that. Does this one-sentence story work? Would you rather it be broken up into many sentences? Do you want to try and write a sentence with at least 100 words?

Grenade

I was only following orders, said the young private, who stood before the emotionless judge, while the jury, who couldn’t remove the images of the small, burned bodies from their minds, thought it was ironic that the jury was going to determine his fate; he knew it was sealed when he signed up to go fight; he thought, as he stood, unaware his legs were trembling, he was born to fight, which meant long before he decided to pull the pin on his grenade, before he heard the screams of the women and children, before the silence set in, his fate was already set in stone, which also meant that there was a God, and if there was a God, he could be forgiven; however, he wasn’t looking for God’s forgiveness; he wanted the children he murdered to forgive him, knowing damn well he wouldn’t get one; he decided when he was given his guilty verdict he would not apologize for his actions.

Untitled Prose Poem

I didn’t end up going to the city, so I found some spare time to post something. I’m leaning towards a prose poem, so bear with me. It probably won’t be great, but you guys will be the judge. There’s no title and its turning out to be more free verse/free writing. If you want to know the inspiration, I’m looking at my fish tank. I just added some plants, adding to the world I created for these fish.

 

An ever-changing world is in the palms of my hands. It covers distant lands. I see you flying across the valleys, digging deep in the ground, known for the dead, but secretly full of life. Tiny microbes are doing their part, barely a cog in the machine, do what it takes to make life possible for you, like me. I gave everything light, I made the source. I made everything, after all. I provide plants, animals, a home, and sustainability. With such ability to do as I please, for my own personal pleasure, it’s possible the power to provide will take control over me. Can it take control of me though? I’m in control, or so I thought. If not me, than who? You? No, you live for me. But then again, you can say the same. The world you call home can crumble in an instant, and no one would hear anything, not even a mumble. I’m a peaceful god, so there’s no need to fear me, but you should know, I’m the reason you’re here. So enjoy my home, treat it well, everything. Every element. It all has a purpose. The purpose, I’ll admit, is you.