you were wounded. It was two days after the armistice and you are forgotten.. presumed dead as you lie here in waiting for saviour or for death in a shell hole, mudded and with wooden supports and rusted wire exposed at the sides. Your legs hurt.. and the scent of the other dead bodies is enough to make you regurgitate what little food you have had the last week, but you don't dare in the worry you may choke, since you are laid out on your back, an inch thick and long peice of thin shrapnel sticking out your left knee and other smaller chunk in your right thigh

Your heart sinks though at the sound you had been fearing the past couple days, having nightmares of said experience.. the sky let out a thundering roar and a small drop of rain landed onto your forehead that is still laid horizontally, rolling up your face into your hair, every drop of water the shell hole fills like a washtub, you can feel it raise up your sides as the exposed barbed wire continues digging into the back of your neck

You can't move. You are going to drown.

This is the end.