War: 8.2.1930

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The beast was ravenous.

This, apparently, was something the soldiers I observed knew, but I was as yet unaware of.

I’d spent the night hunkered down in a small fighting position, the previous owners having relinquished it after I had liberated them of their lives. Unlike the Germans I had fought the morning before, the three Englishmen I killed did not transform into a malignant creature. Of course, I had to remove their heads from their shoulders before they stopped, and, in the case of their sergeant, I had to listen to him berate me for the better part of an hour before he finally gave up the ghost as well.

This morning has been an exercise in caution.

I have decided that the best opportunity for me to end this bizarre war is to find the nearest commanding officer and force him to call a retreat. Only then will the Hollow become relatively safe. Or so I hope.

Regardless, I could go no further.

There was a large swath of barbed wire stretched out for as far as I could see, and a group of men working upon it. They took great care not to touch the wire with their bare hands, and I waited to see why that was.

Granted, in the normal course of laying wire, you would avoid the barbs. They hurt like hell. But these men seemed positively terrified of it.

I watched them for almost an hour before I decided I no longer wished to wait for them to leave or show why the wire was dangerous.

I drew a bead on a man standing atop a plank and shot him once through the chest with the BAR. He died instantly, which made him lucky.

His comrades were not so fortunate.

As the body struck the wire, the other men stood dumbfounded, and before they could react, the wire came alive.

It tore itself free of its stakes and wooden binders, the metal lashing out and taking hold of the men closest to it. I watched as one man was torn in half, and the others lost limbs. All the men, and the body of the one I had slain, were dragged down into churning earth.

When they had vanished, the wire stopped moving.

I decided it would be best to find another way around.

#horror #monsters #supernatural #death

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Nicholas Efstathiou

Husband, father, and writer.

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