Naw, I didn't write this, ain't my thing. My friend off forum asked if I could post it in a blog here, and I'm like all "Wynaut", and yeah.
Surge surveyed the battlefield. The once green countryside turned to a barren wasteland. What was once his home, broken and uninhabitable. He fumbled in his coat pocket and withdrew a pack of cigaret. Walking over the ash which ladened ground he found a place to sit. He remembered the long summer days he spent sitting beside the clear stream. Surge could almost smell the clear air but the pungent odor of death brought him back to reality.
Across the dry creak was the remains of a house. Surge remembered the folks who lived there but more importantly the girl who lived there. Everyday she would sing her song and ride her Ponyta. The cigaret fell from his mouth. He soon found himself on hands and knees. He could feel the urge to weep but he suppressed that feeling. That was the reason he joined the army. A single solitary tear left his eye. Surge gained control of himself. And there he promised never to cry again.
I thought it was good. The music is just for the mood, I suppose.