{Historical Drabble} A Hole to Die In
War: World War I
Characters: Europe, Germany
POV: Europe generally, Germany specifically
The war is endless. They all sit through it as they die slowly, bleed out through the stupidly long gashes that stay open through the whole war. They fight and fight an fight because it's for a cause, for themselves, to prove they are bigger and stronger and so much more worthy than the others and don't you regret not treating me better? But sometimes there are moments when the young men's screams reach above all the other voices, the whispers and the roaring machines and the uncomfortable lives spent away from the hell that everyone would choose over this, the broken angry voices that tell them their anger is beyond foolish. You wanted to be strong, didn't you? You thought they would listen to you if only you pushed a little harder, came back a little louder, flexed your muscles over carcases and laughed at them, didn't you? Well you are strong! You're so strong that your youngest pour into rat mazes and die in batches, die slowly in the stupid stinking mud or in hospitals and those who don't are dead anyway, taken by the obsession of the ferocious lights on the horizon that shift in agonizing incriments over your body yet you're so strong that you can ignore it. Then they all think of something grand, to take their mind off things but not really, a warrior, a proud man who ran headfirst into battle and conquered his world, abused them all until he fell appart at the seams.
They all think like this, but Germany, the best, the most committed thinks other things, goes farther in a very, very small, suppressed corner of god-knows-where. You are steel strong, impervious, but you are still weak, throwing yourself into everything as if you don't it will be the end of you. But this will be the end of you. You will be so incredibly strong and blind, but what happens then?
Characters: Europe, Germany
POV: Europe generally, Germany specifically
The war is endless. They all sit through it as they die slowly, bleed out through the stupidly long gashes that stay open through the whole war. They fight and fight an fight because it's for a cause, for themselves, to prove they are bigger and stronger and so much more worthy than the others and don't you regret not treating me better? But sometimes there are moments when the young men's screams reach above all the other voices, the whispers and the roaring machines and the uncomfortable lives spent away from the hell that everyone would choose over this, the broken angry voices that tell them their anger is beyond foolish. You wanted to be strong, didn't you? You thought they would listen to you if only you pushed a little harder, came back a little louder, flexed your muscles over carcases and laughed at them, didn't you? Well you are strong! You're so strong that your youngest pour into rat mazes and die in batches, die slowly in the stupid stinking mud or in hospitals and those who don't are dead anyway, taken by the obsession of the ferocious lights on the horizon that shift in agonizing incriments over your body yet you're so strong that you can ignore it. Then they all think of something grand, to take their mind off things but not really, a warrior, a proud man who ran headfirst into battle and conquered his world, abused them all until he fell appart at the seams.
They all think like this, but Germany, the best, the most committed thinks other things, goes farther in a very, very small, suppressed corner of god-knows-where. You are steel strong, impervious, but you are still weak, throwing yourself into everything as if you don't it will be the end of you. But this will be the end of you. You will be so incredibly strong and blind, but what happens then?