STOMP! STOMP! STOMP! Was the sound of the light grey boots with bauhaus designs made as it hit the silent, damp mud. People with green uniforms billowed behind him. Their leader was a big, scrawny man, whos arms bent at his elbows. They were chasing this soldier. Ex soldier now. The soldiers name was Ben, a now ex soldier of the Vietnam War. He heard the angry, light silver bullets speed past the side of his broken face. He came to a passage. Right or Left? He thought. Right. He was running, his legs were screaming at him. The lactic acid in his body was full. But then, he saw an old red shack with brown stripes in a few meters in front of him. He went in, it was his only choice. He walked in, with his legs which had turnt into rotten noodles. He saw an old cupboard. He opened it, went inside then closed it. He did not think they would come in here and check the cupboard. Then a few moments later, he heard talking footsteps then talking, in another language. Ben was acting as they were aliens. Then, he had to sneeze. Why now? He was holding it in, his brain was screaming at him. But then, the soldiers heard something, something like a organism sneezing. They opened the broken cupboard with such elegance, Ben would think they were kings. Then they saw Ben, their faces went into a cherry red rage, it looked as though their green pimples, the size of cashews, were about to explode.