Short Story of the Month: THE GRENADE

The grenade whistled past my ear, the ticking of my watch in perfect sync with the grenade. I looked around for the right patrol and when all was clear I picked up the tell-tale bomb that would steal the final few seconds of my life. Handling it with more caution than I’d ever possessed, I scrambled up the muddy ladder and stepped onto No Man’s Land.

I saw the few retreating figures an arm’s throw away. I looked at the grooved knife that would soon pierce my heart. It asked me a question, “Are you like them?”

I grimaced as I threw the grenade in a perfect arc, my cricketer’s hands naturally flicking the grenade just so. It landed with a barely audible thump on the muddy roots of what was a tall oak tree, broken splinters of wood cradling this terrible life-ender. The broken house smiled wistfully at me as I ran back to safety, knowing that I at least had not killed those poor men.

Back at my post, I stood still against time, when a shocking explosion rang in my ears. The echo of silence ended as quickly as it began and then the mayhem began.

Pots and pans rattled as people understood what had happened. Soldiers donned their uniforms and clambered clumsily to in front of their tents, prepared for battle.

“Stop! It was me,” I cried, desperate to save the lives that were confined to this hell hole. And with the pistol on my waist, I shot the final bullet into my own throat.