Short Story, No. 1 - Scorched Earth

This is just the introduction, the rest is posted under Pages.

Diesel turned over, turning his shoulder to the window beside the bed. His bunk moaned. The wind brushed across his back, teasing at the spiderweb of scarring and warpaint. There was smoke on the wind, the smell of blood and charcoal; the smell of desolation. The scent of failure wandered through the room, but it may have only been Diesel’s imagination. 

He dropped silently from the bunk and went to the door. His hand hovered over the latch for a moment before he opened the door and went out into the yard. The clouds were thick that night, but the clouds were always thick; there were spotlights searching the sky, always searching. An ack-ack gun spun silently round and round. Diesel pulled on his jacket and glanced up at the walls, and pacing sentries. 

All at once, the sky exploded. Fire lit up the clouds; exhaust vents screamed open on the sides of a dozen fighters. They dove for the base, with their guns yowling and snarling. Tracer rounds pelted down, tearing through the wall sentries and spinning from the ground and back up into the lead-filled sky. Flak was bursting half-way between the clouds and the ground, dark against the bleached clouds. The guns scattered across the walls and rooftops opened up. There was a thunderous racket from the garage; a tank rolled out from the gate and began to fire upwards. 

Diesel ran for cover.

Scorched Earth is about a soldier named Diesel, who finds himself, without warning, in the middle of an enemy air raid. An experiment in sense-based description.