Short Story-There is nothing heroic in dying for your country

My mind was in turmoil. How could this have happened? They had assured me that all would go to plan. All it had taken was one minor slip up and everything fell apart.  My hands were shaking and I couldn't sit still. I would have to go on the run. I knew I wouldn't be able to trust anyone. But was there any point? Those men would stop at nothing to get me and I knew that sooner or later they would find me.

I put my head in my hands trying to calm myself.
   "Excuse me. Are you alright?"
I raised my head to find a young waitress looking at me with concern written all over her face. Tears pricked my eyes yet I wouldn't allow them fall. She had such a kind face I felt like pouring my heart out to her. I wanted to life the heavy burden on my shoulders. I wanted to tell her about the pain I felt. I could still hear the screams which were like daggers that pierced my heart. I could still remember their faces as if it were only a second ago I was in that prison cell not knowing whether I would make it out alive and return home to my beloved England. I remembered the emptiness in their eyes as they stared at the sea of rats which crawled over their feet not seeming to care whether they lived or died. I smiled at the waitress assuring her I was fine though I was far from it.

I looked around the cafe. Two teenage girls were laughing hysterically clutching their stomachs. An old lady shot a disapproving look at them as she sipped her cup of tea. A young man ran past in pursuit of his dog whose eyes were filled with excitement as it charged down the street. How I envied them. I missed having a normal life. I had often wondered whether I had made the right decision.

My mind wandered back to my first mission briefing. I had been so nervous yet keen to impress. I was so young and naive. All I thought about was becoming a hero and saving my country. But medals mean nothing to me now. After my first mission I was a changed man and my past is now haunted by the many horrors I have faced.

I caught the eye of the young waitress who had approached me earlier. She was watching me carefully and I gave her another smile. I felt uneasy yet I didn't know why. Suddenly someone laid a hand on my shoulder.Without thinking I got up and ran. Everything around me was a blur. I ignored the shouts as I crashed into market stalls sending items flying in every direction. I could hear my blood pounding in my ears and I could feel my skin heating up. The wind whistled by and whipped my face. Then suddenly I was in the middle of a road. Tyres screeched. I heard shouts. Car horns blasted at me from all sides. Then a shot. My feet left the ground and I found myself lying on my back in something wet which was seeping through my jacket. I could see blurred faces above me and my vision slowly faded.

They were wrong. There is nothing heroic in dying for your country.

Life

Life for you, (who we are) has been less than kind
So take a number, (who we are) stand in line
We've all been sorry, (who we are) we've all been hurt
But how we survive, (who we are) is what makes us who we are
Song: Survive
Band: Rise Against

D of E-last day

Feet sore
Back aches
Mind empty
Muscles begging to stop
The fog creates illusions and false hopes
The mud waiting to trap passerbys
The spitting rain is cold and gentle on our skin.
The thought of a warm shower is the fuel which keeps us going

Up the hill (poem)

The sun beats down on our backs
The soft breeze wraps around us and dances between our fingers
We reach the hill which looms above us.
Time seems to strech out.
Seconds become minutes, minutes feel like hours.
All thoughts have left my mind.
I concentrate on putting one foot infront of the other.
I look ahead and for a second my heart is filled with joy as it seems I have nearly reached the top
Yet the smile vanishes from my face as I realise I have been decieved.
I battle on through the last stages of the climb.
Finally I reach the top.

by Sara Montgomery

Banksy

At London Zoo, he climbed into the penguin enclosure and painted "We're bored of fish" in 7-foot-high (2.1 m) letters.




The three images above are three of the nine images Bansky painted onto the Israeli West Bank Barrior in 2005. Banksy's spokeswoman said ''The Israeli security forces did shoot in the air threateningly and there were quite a few guns pointed at him."

andy goldsworthy inspired pieces

When I went on an art trip with my class we went to the beach and made sculptures inspired by Andy Goldsworthy.

The above sculpture was made by me and a couple of my friends.

My thoughts for the day

So I was coming back from the gymn and i started thinking about people's obssesion with staying young and getting the ''perfect body'' which according to alot of people is a flat tummy. There are so many television programs about staying young or looking younger. You don't need to get a flat stomach and be a size zero or six to look good. When I look at models on the runway they look like they are about to snap.

Also, i think my laptop has a will of it's own and it seems to not want to work for me all the time anymore. Maybe it has an evil side and it's plotting...if that's even possible..okay I think I had better stop because if I go on the next thing I know I will be typing complete nonsense which is actually rather fun.

Another thing I find entertaining is doing air guitar at a disco to Bon Jovi Living on a Prayer.