Fox Hole

Daily Story

I sit in this foxhole, surrounded by my own piss and shit. It reeks, and any sane person would have left days ago. I’ve been here for almost a week, in the same spot, digging more holes to expand my handmade septic trench. The fear of what’s out there keeps me buried in here.

I hear the screams of the other brothers trapped in this hell with me. They are bruised and broken. We are all in this together, even if each of us is alone in our own hole. Somehow, knowing my brothers are out there, facing the same nightmare, is what keeps me going.

We are pinned down in the southern region of Brazil. The enemy is fierce, and the foxholes we’ve dug are so deep they keep our entire bodies out of sight. The enemy is cunning and vigilant. They mostly come at night. It wasn’t long ago that they took over my home country.

The United States used to be a place of sanctuary. Then they came like bloodsucking parasites, taking everything in a swift and merciless attack. My loved ones either perished or became part of their evil force. The reckoning continues, and my brothers and I stand against the darkness.

The sun sinks low, and I pull out my silver cross necklace. The horrors will begin soon. I pray to whatever God is still listening. How many of us will still be here tomorrow?

The nights are so long.

I look through the dense jungle, our only place to hide anymore. I grip my sword, then pull out my canteen of holy water, blessed by the only remaining priest. Finally, I reach for my wooden stake and slowly peek over the edge of the foxhole.

Red eyes stare back at me.

Then I hear the screams.

Several of them.

The feasting has begun.

But my last night in this world will not end at the lips of these bloodsucking demons.