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In the Trenches

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Author's note: This story is a prequel to Mr. Trenchfoot, some things might make more sense if you read it first, and vice versa. In a sense, there's really no order to read them. Have fun.

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The night air was cold in the trenches that night. It was late at night and a young soldier, Arthur, was on guard duty. The trenches were extensive and built like a maze, so bumping into another soldier was unlikely. The only sound was the soft pattering of rain and wind, and as always, the sloshing of mud and water below Arthur's boots. He carried his rifle, rested on his shoulder. He was trained to do this, and it was his task every night to keep out any enemies from the opposite side. Of course, they had a few trained snipers, but you never know when the enemy could hatch a brilliant plan.

The light rain mixed with heavy winds only made his job even harder tonight. As the tedious task of patrolling around his normal route continued, the rain turned from a light sprinkle to a heavy downfall. It was about at this time Arthur couldn't see more than ten feet in front of him. He pushed against the head winds and the pouring rain and trudged on. He was taught to never let nature hinder his main objective, no matter how bad it was.

Hours later, the wind still blew. Arthur was pushing with all of his might, trying to keep his balance. Though he had promised himself he wouldn't give up, he kneeled down for a breather. Though the night air was cold, especially with winds and rain mixed in, sweat ran down Arthur's face. The wind died down and Arthur could now see farther in front of him. When he looked up from his position, he spotted someone unfamiliar. He was bulky and wasn't wearing any uniform he had seen.

He was taught what all of the uniforms looked like, and didn't recognize the one the figure dawned. It was a dark brown coat, half buttoned up. Arthur did what he was taught and raised his gun. Arthur thought about putting on his gas mask, for a chemical attack may be eminent, but it was too late. Arthur already had his gun trained on the figure's head.

"Hey!" Arthur screamed at the figure. The figure turned to Arthur, his eyes meeting Arthur's. The figure's eyes were glossy and plainly visible. The figure had long, dirty, white hair protruding from every visible inch of skin. The figure's nose was pink and pressed into his face, as of that of an animal, like a cat or a dog perhaps. Arthur quivered at his massive size. "Put your hands up!" Arthur said, ready to pull the trigger at any moment. The figure did not comply to Arthur's commands. "You asked for it." Without hesitation, Arthur pulled the trigger. The figure flinched but, the thick fur blocked the bullet.

Arthur dropped his gun out of fright. He went to pick it up, but it was too late, the figure was dashing towards him. Arthur reacted by pulling out a pistol and firing a couple rounds, to no avail. The figure slashed into Arthur's chest with what he assumed was a blade of sorts. As Arthur flew back onto the mud, holding his chest, he soon learned the figure had claws, long, black claws. Arthur scuttled back, hoping the creature that was attacking would have mercy. The creature tore into Arthur's neck, before dropping him.

Arthur laid clinging for life, looking into the eyes of his ferocious killer. He choked on blood and mucus. He managed to sputter out a few words, coughing up more blood in the process.

"Wh- what are you?" Arthur asked, terrified beyond words. The creature smiled at Arthur, examining a job well done. It chuckled a hardy chuckle before gazing back into Arthur's eyes. Its friendly grin contorted into a twisted smile. It revealed its rows of sharp, pointy teeth.

"I, my boy-" the creature started. Arthur was moments away from death, holding back tears while bleeding out. "I, my boy, am Mr. Trenchfoot." Arthur's eyelids grew heavy, as Mr. Trenchfoot tore his dog tags from him neck. He opened a pocket to reveal a whole collection of them, his was just another statistic. He closed his pocket and trudged off. The last thing Arthur saw before dying, was his glossy, evil, eyes.



Written by MacaroniArtZombeh
Content is available under CC BY-SA

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