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The Bunker

The sun came up over the top of the concrete. The rusty metal dully glinted in the rays. Through the door, the light shone into the dark, dank room. The dust floated through the air like fairy dust and the square of the sole window shone upon the wall. The cold, hard floor was covered with dry leaves, tracked in by the wandering people who came searching for memoribilia from those days past. A few empty beer and liquor bottles lay abandoned and empty in the corners, but somehow added beauty to the atmosphere of the place. It all in all looked picked over and robbed of it's history, but it still retained the glory and honor it had represented in those dark, tumulotus years. Voices of young men, some just out of highschool, could faintly be heard amongst the rusty bits of metal scratching against the hard floor. The sounds of an old radio blaring Glenn Miller's latest solng could be heard in the crunching of the amber leaves. There was a stain upon one of the walls, possibly that of a soldier's blood, a soldier who had died trying to protect his country and who died with an unspeakable dignity. Pieces of tape were still stuck to the frigid cement walls, hinting to the only world not effected by war: the pinups of models, the inspirational logo of Uncle Sam, the pictures of families, left behind to hope that they would again see their beloved, brave soldier. The place outwardly looked to be missing it's main parts, there were no machines or bombs left inside nor were there any remembrances of those days left in material form, but it could all be felt in the air. The joy of the returning soldier, the sadness at the death of a fellow platoon member, the days of hard labor and determination devoted to the country that spawned them. Yes, this place was still alive and well, it's past only enriched it for the better. Those dried leaves upon that cold floor weren't just leaves from nearby trees, but they were also the hundreds of memories formed in that place, that dark, dank, cold place hidden behind a gang of bushes along the pathway in the woods.
Natalie Durmisevich, 2000

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