Knock knock.
It sounded like a small firecracker going off in the distance. Sharp noises of small bangs connoting celebration. And it was one. But not in the favour of the ones sitting in this bunker 30 feet under the ground. He knew the end was near. Those timid bangs gave him no comfort. Because it is very rare to suppress the noises of war. In his hands, he held a decision. In the form of a Remington. To pull, or not to pull. Didn't seem like a question anymore. The enemy neared. And so did fear. Creeping up on him like bugs crawling under your shirt. And your instinct is to leap up in the air, trying to get them off you. Only in this scenario, you can’t. Because those bugs are crawling under your skin. But he sat there. Patiently. Suppressing his anxiety. Trying to not let emotions come in the way of rationality. But when the heart and the mind go to battle, there’s never a clear winner. Or loser. He put the gun to his temple. A finger on the trigger. Ready to smear his blood on history as ...