Franklin Iwuoha

The Shaking Man

The stench of piss permeated throughout the slit-trench, radiating from the marshy floors as evidence of our bold acts of defiance. The constant downfall didn’t help, being impartial yet far-reaching in its fostering, birthing the thick forests that now surround our ditch-home, and embellishing the putrid smell that resides within it. Moral had long since taken a nosedive, so the reek of our naive past mentality only served to keep all us soldiers in line. Having one half keep watch across the perimeter for the Japanese and the other preparing for our eventual retreat to our previously dug pits once they’ve arrived. All but one black man, who it seems could only smell the hopelessness and despair that now shackled his heart and mind.