Board Thread:Writer's Workshop/@comment-5946174-20140410062541

My pastas haven't garnered much attention lately, so I thought I'd put one up here for review.

"The crosshairs were transfixed on the German’s head. The Russian held his breath and steadied the rifle, prepared to take the shot. His cheeks grew slack and his eyes squinted so as to get a better view of the target. The Russian pulled back on the trigger, releasing the projectile.

The shot sailed through the air and landed just a foot below the German’s head, burying itself in the sandbags set up around the perimeter. Shit! He had miscalculated the bullet drop. The German, acknowledging this as the perfect opportunity to strike back, poised his rifle and fired a shot in return.

The bullet whistled towards the Russian at high speed. It grazed past the man’s ear, rupturing some of the tissue in his earlobe. The Russian hollered in pain, ducking behind cover and applying pressure to the wound. At the very same moment, the German also felt an intense, burning sensation in his ear.

This puzzled the German, because as far as he knew, he hadn’t been struck by a bullet. He swabbed the side of his ear with his middle and index fingers to see if there was a wound – his gloved hand didn’t show any blood on it, so he couldn’t have been shot. What on earth could have happened?

The Russian cursed under his breath and cautiously poked his head above the sandbags while looking through the scope. He aligned the crosshairs with the German’s head and pulled back on the trigger once more, firing yet another projectile towards the German dog.

The bullet tore through the German’s shoulder, causing him to scream in anguish. He fell backwards onto the cold stone ground. Suddenly and without warning, the German saw a multitude of Russians surrounding him, asking what had happened. How could he understand their language? It did not matter. Acknowledging them as the enemy, he attempted to withdraw his pistol and shoot them. But alas, he had not the strength to do this. His eyes began to feel heavy and he could not resist the urge to lull into a deep sleep.

The German awoke alongside his brothers in arms who were currently defending the encampment with the turret emplacements they had set around the perimeter. He tried to bring himself to his feet, but he felt a sharp pain in his right shoulder. Oh yes, that’s right. He had been shot. Who were those people? Where did they go? He shook his head and disregarded those thoughts, writing them off as mere hallucinations. A medic soon came to the German’s side and bandaged his wound to get him back into the battle.

Meanwhile, the Russian had experienced a similar episode. He came back into consciousness just as, if not more, confused as the German. He glanced to the left and saw his comrades holding up fort there. He, too, tried to find his footing, but found that he had an equally severe pain in his right shoulder. He glanced at his shoulder where the pain was emanating, but there was not and entrance nor an exit wound to be seen. How odd. He figured he had experienced some kind of psychological episode that is commonplace during war. He ignored the burning sensation in his arm and returned to his post.

The German was determined to end his opponent once and for all. With his wound bandaged by a tourniquet, he arose and surveyed the landscape briefly to get a visual on the enemy sniper. After a few moments, he spotted the Russian swine looking through his scope. Seizing the opportunity, the German aimed for the man’s throat so as to inflict a slow, painful death of blood loss and asphyxiation for all of the suffering that bastard had caused. With his breath held and weapon poised, the German pulled the trigger. The shot rang true." 