Deep beyond the grey sky
Lies a man with just one eye
They call him by his last name
It is his only claim to fame
He tried to do wrong amongst great powers
And he succeeded without a threat from Jack Bauer
Kosovo in the late 1990’s
Preface -
They say you had to be there to understand the conflict. They say you had to be there on the front lines to really know what the conflict was all about. I was there, fleeing for my life as they came to our homes. I don’t understand it though. I don’t think I will. I don’t think I will want to understand because I thought humanity had progressed, I thought that things were different. I thought that after World War II things changed. When Milosevic came into power, and I came to know what he represented, I resented him. And so the journey began, fleeing my home of Kosovo, the only home that I have always known.
The Beginning of the End
I sat down staring at my sparse things; photographs of my girlfriend of whom I would never see again and a single shot bolt action rifle. A few more trinkets littered my messy room. I looked around and saw a few audio tapes, my tape deck, a newspaper and my watch, a gift from my father. I put on my watch, slid a photograph out of a frame and into my back pocket, slung my rifle around my back, and grabbed my backpack and stuffed ammo and any food lying around my small apartment. I had to move fast. I could hear the distant rumble of a convoy. I only had to worry about my self, and I could move quickly.
I ran out of my apartment, down the narrow stairwell and out of the building. It was really cold outside, very cold and cloudy too. I ran around the back of the small apartment complex and out of the main road and headed to the forest just beyond our small town. I made my way up the hillside as fast as I could. My hands were shaking and my eyes teary from the cold and the wind. I stopped in the forest when I was out of view from the town’s perspective, but I could still see the town and stay hidden. I sat down on a dead tree stumps and drank some water from a water bottle. I made it.
A moment after drinking my water I saw a convoy pulling into town and a message being played over a loud speaker. There were still many people still in the town. They hadn’t got out in time. I couldn’t tell what the loudspeaker was saying from my position, but I saw several people exiting their homes and lining the streets. A man stepped out of a jeep and was yelling some orders. One of my townsfolk yelled back at him. The man who was from the convoy pulled out a handgun and pointed it at the other man’s head. He didn’t hesitate to pull the trigger. I heard the distant cries of screams so I grabbed my rifle, loaded a round and cocked it. I aimed down at the man with a pistol. I can hit a soda bottle from two hundred yards away; I can hit a head from one hundred and fifty. I hesitated though. There were about thirty other men in the convoy. I had enough ammo, but it was a matter of loading and cocking each round, aiming and hitting every target. No man is that good. I grabbed my rifle and ran up the hill and away from town.
The farther I got away from town, the less I escaped the gunfire echoing from town. I must have heard hundreds of rounds fired. I didn’t want to think that everyone I know was just executed and I did nothing to help them. I am here running like a coward, saving only myself.
The journey was exhausting; I didn’t know where I was going except to the border. I wanted to stay and fight, but it is useless. How can one man make a difference? I only thought that I need to survive so that I can tell my story and so that people can understand what happened and how to stop future threats. I am not a one man army. A few of my friends joined the resistance a few years back. I haven’t heard from them since. I don’t want to die in glory, I want to live.
About a hundred yards ahead I saw a small village. There were only a few homes. I saw some smoke billowing out of one of the homes. People! If I save someone I will feel much better about doing nothing before. Just then it started raining. It wasn’t normal, it was freezing rain. As I got closer into the town I saw a jeep pull up with three men inside, it was them. One of the men started yelling and a family came out of the only occupied home. There was a father, a wife and three children, two girls and a young boy of just a few years. One of the men from the jeep waltzed over to the family. I could see he had a pistol on his side. He was laughing and pointed to the ground.
The family laid on the ground as the man grabbed the pistol out of his holster. The rain picked up and it became harder to see. I grabbed my rifle and cocked it. I took steady aim. I was definitely in range. I had to act fast, there were two men standing near the jeep with their automatic rifles ready in their hands. Click. The round exited my gun and I loaded another round and cocked the gun. I pulled the trigger a second time as the men reacted and drew up their rifles. Two men down one to go. I put the third round in the rifle and cocked the gun and took aim. This third man had dropped to the ground to take cover. I had taken out the first two men in under three seconds. The rain picked up and a heard a bullet whiz past my ear. I heard another pop. He hit a tree just a few feet from my head. I took aim, but the man blended in with the mud and debris of the land. I fired and heard return fire. I missed, and luckily he missed too. I saw some movement, and carefully loaded another round. I spotted him and fired. The air grew silent amidst the torrential downpour. The family still was on the ground. Had I hit him? Was he dead? Was he waiting for me to get up?
I couldn’t wait any longer, I stood up but I was hit by something, but from behind. I looked down at my chest and saw blood dripping down my shirt. Another shot hit me. I fell to my knees. I saw the family ahead of me run and get into the jeep and drive off. Another shot hit me from behind. I turned around and saw about fifteen men who were on my trailer. At least I had saved someone. At least I had done something. At least someone had done something.
Questions Answered
The implications for joining an actual event and the imaginary characterization is that it makes that event real, as opposed to reading a statement of facts. You feel what they went through. When you read about how many people died, it doesn’t have the same effect as when you learn about a person, and then they are killed. You become connected. I haven’t read (at least not that I can think of) authors that have done this regularly, but I have in film. Any war movie, like “Apocalypse Now” that created imaginary characters in a real event of the Vietnam War is just one example. To know how reliable a piece of writing (or a film) is, you just have to use common sense. If they were there, they can tell a better story than anyone else. You also have to do research to see if their stories line up with the ‘facts’ and also compare them to other accounts. I don’t think there a most ‘reliable’ way of telling the account of an event. You have to look at it from every angle if you want the whole picture. You look at from both sides, from the little man and the leaders and the historians and the autobiographies. The writings on the walls stir up passions, but for this piece I wanted to start from scratch. I chose this event because I wanted to write about someone who was torn about fighting back or running away, and this event gave an opportunity for both.
2 comments:
I really like the opening of your story. I love how you talk about the concept of understanding - "they say" you can't understand unless you're there, but your character points out that even when you're immersed in the situation, it still makes no sense. I think you did a good job of conveying a sense of urgency in your story with your use of a lot of short sentences back to back. You do this from time to time in your descriptions and it gives the reader a choppy, anxious feeling, which definitely communicates the tone of the story!!
There were a couple instances where your longer stories became run-ones ("I put on my watch, slid a photograph out of a frame and into my back pocket, slung my rifle around my back, and grabbed my backpack and stuffed ammo and any food lying around my small apartment.") but I like the details in them and if you broke them into smaller sentences, it would be just fine. It's good to insert long sentences to offset the groups of shorter ones, so it's not that you need to eliminate them completely, just watch out for ones that get a bit too long.
I also liked the character development - "I am here running like a coward, saving only myself" was a powerful sentence because that's a huge burden to carry. You want to save yourself, but your conscience gets the best of you. That made the last couple sentences even more powerful: "At least I had done something. At least someone had done something."
Nice job on your story Tony!
Very interesting story, Tony. I really liked the introductory paragraph about not ever understanding a war. It was gripping and hooked the reader as well as setting them up for a story that is true and unbelievable all at the same time. I also liked the way that instead of making your character a hero you made him real, and his desire for life overcame his desire to save his family and friends, and so he ran. Yet that cowardly action haunted him and eventually lead him to his doom. That makes the reader question the nature of heroism and the need to survive. Are there any heroes in a war?
I thought that in some places you did an excellent job of showing instead of telling, such as when you mentioned that “I could hit a soda bottle from two hundred yards” instead of saying I was an excellent shot. However there were also places where you told instead of showing, such as when you mentioned that it was cold out. You said the word cold four times but did not show us what that meant. Also there were some akward phrases that could have been reworded.
I was also confused as to what exactly caused his change of heart and made him risk what he was not willing to risk for those he loved for a family of strangers. Then e was shot by people behind him, where they following him? Or were they using the family as bait? The ending was a bit unclear about those few things.
Otherwise good story idea and good character development.
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