[WP] A water-gun fight between children, told as if it were a horrific war story.

Jacob closed his eyes and murmured a quiet prayer. The sun was starting to set and there was still no end in sight. The night air pulled at his wet clothes and tugged at his damp hair with invisible fingers.

"Jacob," Bobby breathed from beside him, gun clutched to his heaving chest. "Jacob, we have to surrender," he pleaded.

Jacob's dark eyes glinted in the waxing moonlight. "Never give up. Never surrender." He growled.

"Jacob, I-"

"Get down!" Jacob yelled, shoving his comrade down into the muddy trench. He was too late. The spray of the enemy's fire pelted him in the back. He grimaced and fell to the ground. "I- I'm hit," he whimpered, all of the previous fire in his eyes now extinguished. He grasped at Bobby's fingers with icy, clammy hands. "It's up to you now, brother," he wheezed between dying gasps.

Bobby sniffed and tried to keep the tears from spilling from his eyes. "I will avenge you, brother," he vowed solemnly. He watched silently as Jacob's last breaths rattled through his lungs. Then he grabbed both guns and lurched to his feet. If he could just make it behind enemy lines, he could eliminate their commander. Jacob would not have been lost in vain.

Steeling himself for the mission ahead of him, Bobby tightened his crimson bandana above his brow and readied his weapon.

It was now or never.

He ducked behind the trench and made his way around the bend on silent feet. He could see Sean in the distance, barking orders to his team, his back to Bobby. He exhaled and whispered the prayer Jacob had taught him, before bolting from the trench and grabbing hold of Sean.

"Nobody move!" He ordered, eyes flashing around the circle of what remained of Sean's army. His gun to Sean's temple.

Sean put his arms in the air, jaw clenched. "Shoot me. They'll never betray their country," he sneered.

"Booooys!" The cry rang out across the field, hushing them all into perfect silence. "Dinner's ready!"

Bobby sighed and lowered his water gun, looking at Sean, whose stomach conveniently rumbled at that exact moment. "Truce?" he asked.

Sean considered him. "Truce. For now," he said, turning to head toward the house.

Bobby wiped the sweat from his forehead and strode back over to the place where Jacob had fallen, offering him his hand. "Your mom made tacos."


Feels good to get something written after a week. Here's this thing: r/PhantomFiction, should you care to take a gander at me other stuff.

/r/WritingPrompts Thread