This is one of my short stories I write on my free time at school. I've posted this one of Deviantart http://haze3p0.deviantart.com/#/d4f54s3

One last thing, I need suggestions for a title, as I can't think of one.

Enjoy!

All Jack could see is death. Dead soil, dead trees, and dead people. It was the most depressing sight he had ever seen. This French field was probably beautiful, farm animals used to graze on the peaceful grass, and children picked the flowers. Jack wished he could picture it though, so he can make a beautiful piece of art, but war had ruined it too much to even make a glimpse in his head.

Jack was born in London, England on July 1, 1897. His father died in 1899 during the Boer Wars. His mother was a worker at a textile mill at day and a night job but Jack never learned what it was. Jack always loved drawing because he was mostly lonely during his childhood and he saw art as not only a hobby, but a companion. On January 1916, Jack voluntary joined the army instead of waiting to get drafted, due to his sense of patriotic duty and the opportunity to get inspired for future art pieces. He got into the frontlines in April.

It was now June, 1916. Jack was sitting down in a dirty, wet trench that reeked of death and feces. A fellow soldier named Williams walked up to him. Williams was born in London too, but he was mostly an orphan. He was drafted at the same time Jack joined the army and both knew each other in training. Both were also sent to the front lines at the same time too. William sat down with him, and said: "I'm going to die tomorrow."

"Why do you say such things?"

"Cause I want to end this bloody war."

"By dying? That doesn't make bloody sense."

"They say "only the dead seen the end of the war. I believe in that. I want the war to end tomorrow for me."

Jack could not speak any further. Cannon fire dominated the sound. Jack just stayed sitting down, waiting for the cannons to stop.

It was cloudy and not a peak of sunshine in the sky. Planes flew like birds, but not as beautiful. Cannon kept on striking the ground, destroying the land. Jack, as with the other men, clutched their rifles and waited for the signal to charge. William was next to him. He was praying, sounded like Last Rites but Jack could not make it out. He took a deep breathe, and the whistle blew, and the men went over the top.

Some of the soldiers did not fully climb over. They were gunned down by the terrible machine guns on the other side. Not even a chance to fight back. Jack ran as fast as he could to safety. He wanted to find William. If he was going to die, he was going to die with his only good human friend. He ran up to a crater, and inside was a lifeless Tommy. He turned the body around, and saw it was William. He was shot in the brain, hopefully dying painlessly. He had gotten his wish. The war was over for him. "Goodbye friend" Jack whispered.

A Tommy yelled; "Fall back!" Jack did not hesitate to follow that order. He got back to the friendly trench and helped fend off the Germans charging back at them. That night, Jack sat on a wooden desk, and drew his imagination land of the French field. "Just one last piece, send it home, and end the war".