Prompt 3: The Cliffhanger

In 500 words or less, create a tense scene centered around an inconsequential event. Perhaps there’s a race against time, a moral dilemma, or a bluff being called. Low stakes, but with the same tone as saving the world.

And most importantly, end with a cliff hanger.

The journey had taken its toll on the young corporal. All the marching and fighting under intense heat and heavy rain bore an empty cavern in his head that he filled with thoughts of home. In his breast pocket he kept a single photo of his love. The curls on her head remained where he last saw them and warmed his heart while her glossy shine breached his hard demeanor.

War is a necessary evil. He recited this with a growing sense of uneasiness.

This would be his final day of marching. The patrol group he belonged to had endured four months of heavy marching, and, on many occasions, gunfire. He was tired of sweating, tired of marching and tired of carrying his bolt-action M1903 Springfield rifle. His unit had come to depend on him to take the difficult shots. To take the decisive moments in battle on his shoulders.

The small camp at the fork in the river, was slowly dissolving into large green trucks that travelled out of sight beyond the rocky scenery. Most of the men had cleared the pass and were down range. A last piece of artillery, rattled its way down the narrow slope, accompanied by a collection of war-worn men. The young corporal was accustomed to standing watch, but this time he had every intention of climbing into one of those big trucks and bid adieu to the past four months of hell. One bright and rested soldier greeted him as he came to the top of the slope.

“Captain said he could use your help with the last of the clean up. He needs at least one sniper to stay behind for the last convoy”

“I’ve been here for four months now. Can’t Johnson stay behind? He got here only a month ago.”

“It doesn’t have to be you, but Captain would prefer you volunteer before he has to give orders.”

The corporal took off his helmet to pull out a smoke, before repositioning it over his greasy hair.

“Tell captain I’m staying.”

The soldier ran off down the path toward the camp. The sun was bright and the sting of cold sweat lingered. A few short puffs of smoke and the cigarette was scattered into ashes on the rocks. He wished he could be home smoking a cigarette in the driveway while fixing the lawn mower.

Behind him he heard faint clicking and crunching sounds. He turned around and walked a few paces toward the noise. Then he ran up a smaller trail that led to a rocks edge looking over the path. He shouldered his rifle to see further. Between the rock canyon, a near dozen soldiers in gray marched down the same path leading toward the pass. He froze. The enemy was approaching and his men were not prepared. He could run to join the camp and fight as brothers, or he could create a distraction and spare them all. He craved another cigarette but stayed his gaze. Sweat ran down his cheeks and slipped off his chin. His heart pounded. Run and join the troops, or stay and fight? Run and join the troops, or stay and fight? Run and join the troops, or…

A soft crash came from the boy’s mouth. His finger flicked a plastic man.