From The Pen of Inkston

Hey all, thought I'd through some pseudo-poetry your way as I wait for that cover designer to get back to me. I was giving a shot with some stealthy storytelling, I'm sure there's a very fancy word for that, but I can't remember. As a general rule, everything is not as it seems. ooooooh! Please enjoy!

The Undecorated Ones

Kell Inkston

The soldiers at the low of the hill stare intently at the peak.

“They’re all bunked up at the top, we’re going to have to use the trees as cover,”

Sgt. Jake says as he points with the barrel of his rifle.

While the rest of us greet the reality of our horrible positioning against the enemy,

Corp. Chris, the largest, heartiest among us, responds with a grin.

Suddenly, the forest is hallowed with the sounds of gunfire.

I’m instantly separated as the rest of the squad takes cover,

and I leap into the dense bracken.

The heroes fire into the wood, praying to hit our invisible enemy.

I watch with wide eyes as Jake and Chris meet their ends on the hill.

I search the surroundings, and see the path.

I take the path of most resistance up the hill, and submerge myself in the thorns.

They can’t spot me as I crawl through the thick; I am now as invisible as my foes.

I listen to the chorus of fire down the ridge to my left,

I pull through the dense greens and browns, all the way to the top of the hill.

It is there that I see three foes, firing senselessly downhill; the sound of their weapons masking my approach.

My gun, unused until now, is raised as I quiet myself.

I take a breath, and hug the trigger.

The three are assaulted with plenteous, painteous pain,

As my red shots soar straight through their brush and obliterate them all.

I won paintball that day, and was known as the hero of my team.