fact or fiction
Is it fact or merely fiction? Fact or Fiction explores the myths and beliefs we hold about the military and the physical, logistical, emotional and moral obstacles involved.
Coming Home
It had been five years since Jason had last stood in front of his home. At that time war was brewing, and Jason’s group of friends decided to join the Army because it sounded like fun. “Fun” was far from his view of it, Jason had long thought of the military and its servicemen as arrogant punks who just liked killing things. He saw no glory or honor in it, why defend a country that was so oppressive anyway? However, jobs were scarce, and with no real vocational ambitions or desires to further his education after high school, he joined up with the four of them. He had stood in front of his California home, his clean-shaven face still stinging from the resentful removal of his scraggly beard, hugged his parents and bid them a last goodbye before heading to the processing station where he would be shipped off to Basic Training.
By Dawn Hunter5 years ago in Serve
The Red Heart Shaped Locket
The day the world ended I was in a cell under the ground. A cell stored with food and water, enough to last for a year. The world ended in every way I knew it could. It ended in the sense that there was no longer an endless supply of food which one could purchase with green paper. There was no longer clean water in the faucets. There was only death and suffering everywhere I looked. Scorched grounds without crops. Water polluted with dead fish, and dead carcasses everywhere there used to be animals and humans.
By Melissa Meintjes 5 years ago in Serve
War: A Creative Nonfiction Piece
Sunlight poured in from the window, the rays gentle and warm, promising a relaxing day. An old man sat in a tan recliner nearby, listening as voices young and old wafted through the open windows of the porch. Bird chatter and chirping insects joined in. A fresh breeze blew through, and the old man closed his blue-grey eyes with a wheezed sigh.
By Victoria Russo5 years ago in Serve
Are we alone?
Are we alone? The sonar picked up the first indications, long before the view in the periscope showed anything. Even with the magnified view, the horizon was empty. Yet the continuous beep from the sonar demanded attention. The officer of the watch decided against a general action stations but she did call the captain.
By Peter Rose5 years ago in Serve
THEY FOUGHT BARE BREASTED
The 1st Tennessee Cavalry Volunteers for the Union were on the Northern side of a raging Chattahoochee river, and the Rebels were camped out on the Southern side to protect Atlanta from General Sherman. They had all just survived a rowdy homemade 4th of July celebration where General E. F. Noyes lost a leg, and Sherman almost got hit himself, so they were in fine spirits for their next venture, and it was just around the corner. Meanwhile the two sides engaged in “trash talk”.
By Roxy Lentz5 years ago in Serve
THE STORM THAT SAVED THE DAY
THE STORM THAT SAVED THE DAY Sometimes Truth is indeed stranger than Fiction and this story has always captured my imagination and I have often wondered why this has not been made into a Movie. This is a true Historical event that is very interesting indeed!
By Julia Lindsay5 years ago in Serve
Best Friends
James Levy sat at the folding card table that he used to eat his meals, read, and write. A stack of seven legal pads with clean, crisp white pages sat in the top left corner of the table, nestled against the wall. James used the pads for everything: journaling, therapy notes, gratitude lists, and incomplete stories. Seven ball point pens with black ink waited their turn in a dingy coffee mug next to the legal pads. The banker's box under the table housed hundreds of pages of James’ writing, organized by subject and date. A pocket-sized black Moleskin notebook was open to a handwritten page titled “Week of 12/11/16.” Today was Sunday. His sole obligation was to get groceries.
By Takeia R. Johnson5 years ago in Serve
The Murder of Xalapa (Part I)
The most beautiful man of the English-speaking world is about to do the unthinkable. He is quite mad, but he is more sad than angry. He is tall and has the perfect tan sin of the Caribbean and the Mediterranean Sea. He just lost a good friend and his first friend, Mr. Yépez.
By Arnoldo Alonso5 years ago in Serve
Home Too Soon
In my short adult life I've been known as many things. A mistake, a blessing, a compeer, corrival. The love of someone's life, nothing... a beggar, a thrull, half live or partially undead. living off the bits and pieces from the few civilized who chose to spare it. Hunger pangs rock me in an out of sleep, like an angler's line on an empty tarn. "These train carts sleep a lot better when ain't nobody on em". I heard in the distance Another exclaimed as he adjusted himself in recumbency. Homelessness mustn't suit me well I thought, 7 months in and My pride still thwarts my reality. Unfamiliar with the uncertainties each night brings, let alone the encroaching city air; a nightly reminder that i'm not at "home". Wherever home is. A veteran, not gone long enough to be a hero, home before it was okay to be forgotten. Here I sit. Existing In a non essential existence. "Existing"I glanced one eye to see 8bit sand draining from the digit hourglass on the platform display. "This is home for the night." I told myself as The hour neared 3am I found safety in that thought.
By Devin Moore5 years ago in Serve
