Short Story #49: Tank Photo

Prompt (based on an in-class assignment): Write a short story inspired by the above photo. (Word count: 251)

* * * * * Although several of the young men beside him hurled insults at the men driving the invading tanks, Pyr stood silent. He couldn’t keep the sneer of contempt from his lips, but he didn’t open them to shout curses. He just watched.

And waited.

Earlier that day, his brother Marku had brought word from the front that the line had fallen. “Tanks, driving over everyone,” he had said. He told Pyr of the general in the black beret, the one called Wulvtak. “His tank, he stops it on top the soldiers. Half-under, Kelm and Varsht, screaming for death, and this Wulvtak stops, lights a cigar, and watches the rest of the tanks proceed to the city. Soon Varsht stops screaming. Wulvtak shoots Kelm and waves the tank forward.”

Pyr had wept then. Wept for his cousins. Wept for his brother having to witness their deaths. Wept for the city. He would not weep for Wulvtak.

And, suddenly, there he was, standing on the back of the tank. Rifle, possibly with Kelm’s blood still on the barrel, held defiantly at his waist.

The tank approached. Five. Four. Three. Two. One. The tank was past.

Pyr leapt on the back of the tank, moved to push the general beneath the tread. “Death to Wolfkat!” he screamed. The general spun around, laughing.

“Cut!” the director yelled. “It’s Wulvtak, kid. And Joe, if you don’t laugh we can loop it in later, huh? Reset the tank column. Let’s do it again.”

–30–