retreat from conflict - quotes and descriptions to inspire creative writing
"There are times that a retreat from conflict is bravery, not cowardice. Sometimes it takes fortitude to backtrack, to let the enemy take ground and find another route around to eventual victory. To proceed in this current time would be foolishness considering the positions they hold and I cannot send my men to pointless deaths to satisfy your blood-lust. You may command a retreat or hold me to court-martial, for we will have fallen back the the canyon by dawn."
Allies and friends fell as we assaulted the enemies. It was a hopeless battle. They out manned us and out gunned us. Rockets picked off ten at a time. Tanks rolled in. Helicopters sprayed bullets at us. But we still ran in. Until the order came to retreat. Soldiers ran. But still they were pick off by the hundred. I knew there was no hope in running. But I kept running.
I could engage in battle, in fact, I could do it right now, but what was the point? Lives would be taken, hearts would be either broken beyond repair, or filled with absolute rage. And then where would we be, in the middle of a cold, dark abyss, consumed, by rubble, filth, and debris? These are just the physical factors, we could not be requited with happiness, laughter, and for all I care, the simple joys in life. We would be stranded on an island of fear and uncertainty, without any rafts of hope, hope of a better day. In light of these dreaded circumstances, I choose to end this war, end it for our future, for the hopes and dreams that those before us have chosen to fulfill. To you, right now, this may be a rash decision on my part, but just think if we could live in a place filled with peace, forgiveness and kindness of heart. A world that is within our grasp but it still remains beyond our imagining. So, I ask you, to search deep within your hearts, for sympathy and to join me.
The scenery was gorgeous, and she wished she could stop to take it all in.
But right now, her heart was thudding in her head and the trees around her were spinning off the ground.
She couldn't breathe, her lungs were crying out for mercy. But she couldn't stop.
They were behind her, she could hear their footsteps, almost as loud as her own heart. She pulled her gloating muscles forward, trying to force her in-obedient legs to continue running. But they faltered and twitched, ready to give up.
She couldn't stand the feeling of warmth behind her. They were on her.
The letter was wrinkled and worn, and it was addressed to me. It wasn't from her. She didn't speak, only stood there, waiting, waiting for me to try and defend. But all that I had to fight her had been depleted months, maybe years ago.
I stood and left, leaving the letter behind. I didn't need it; I knew every word.
They surround me. All around, all over, scattered in every direction possible. And all I do is strain my sore, sore eyes-the very ones that cried and bled, and shied. What a coward I am! Helpless, hopeless, lonely. Surely, no end will find me-for I deserve none. And so, when I retreat from this conflict, when I find my way out, when I survive, I will bleed- slowly, agonizingly-drop by drop, until I'm met with a bitter, bitter death. One fit for a coward.
'Fall back!' the commander shouted! Never had he seen an enemy advance so quickly, as if his adversary knew his exact position. Now he had to relinquish the spot he had spent days in reaching. The careful planning had all been for naught, now that he was forced to retreat.
Back turned, the blazing fire that loomed behind me flickered and burned, warming my back. The dark black clouds billowed above me, moving away from the fires. Crashes can be heard in the distance. Gunfire. Screams. Cries. Fear gripped my heart, my pace quickening as they become louder. I cannot come back. I need to go away. Now.