Five Sentence Fiction is about packing a powerful punch in a tiny fist. Each week I will post a one word inspiration, then anyone wishing to participate will write a five sentence story based on the prompt word. The word does not have to appear in your five sentences, just use it for direction.This week, the chosen word is "Composure," and this was the hardest one yet--at least for me. When I think of someone who is composed, I think of the dashing British soldier, dutifully doing that which must be done. Such was my inspiration for this week. I hope you like it.
Machine guns churned in the distance as muzzle-flashes pinpointed their placement, only to be occasionally obfuscated by the billows of acrid smoke from the wretched discharge.
Resolute to silence the guns of the foul Hun once and for all, the Lieutenant advanced as all around him was torn asunder while comrades-in-arms fell chopped to pieces by the machinations of a mad Kaiser hell-bent on destruction.
Moving onward, ever forward, toward the earthly embodiment of a Germanic steel-reinforced Hell, complete with fire, smoke, and hot, blazing death, he was un-phased and possessed a preternatural calm as he approached the enemy position.
Smirking while his perfectly aimed Webley revolver shorn short the lives of many too foolish, or too brave, to seek appropriate cover, "War may be Hell, but by God, I do love it so."
Around him was all-consuming chaos but he was its primal opposite--the utlimate personification of collected self-control.