Ww1 Week 1 Personal Narrative

Screams of rage filled the air as I ran down with the men. My neck was sweaty already from the sun beating down on the armor that was there to protect me. The sun created a shine from all the men around me dressed in thick silver armor. Their swords or bow and arrows were pointed ahead of them, ready to kill. As the first wave opponent hit, blood splattered all over the clean sand, making it turn crimson and camouflage with the red liquid that spilled on it. My hair itched at my neck under my armor, for it was put into a bun I would blend in with the men. Luckily, the soldiers were allowed to wear a scarf around their mouths, covering their mouths and nose from the frequent sand storms. I rushed into the war. Now that the war had begun, the

Wiping a strand of my dark hair away from my face, I noticed that my black cover up was gone. Looking around, I was only met with dead or injured bodies littering the floor. After a while, I gave up searching when I saw that someone was pointing an arrow to my older brother. My brother, still not noticing the man, was battling against someone on his horse. Narrowing my eyes, I drew my arrow back focusing on the man who was regaining his balance after tripping over somebody. I let go of the arrow and the man hit the ground with a thud. Blood poured out of his chest, but before I can turn around, an arrow me by my neck. Glancing in the direction the arrow had flown from, the prince of the opposed side stood. My hands went up my neck and as I pulled my hands back, they were were soaking in the red substance. My blood. Black dots appeared at the edge of my vision, but I made my way over to the side of the battle field where my dear friend worked in helping the injured men. She rushed over to me as I called out her name, my voice hoarse, She looked horrified at me and brought me inside a tent in which she stitched up my wound, but not before I let the darkness take over