copyrighted character do not steal

I enjoyed that a lot.

My only suggestion would be to try and lengthen it a little, have some more development of the characters and plot. But I think you have the workings of a good short story there.

Oooh, I like this. Remember the classic advice: show, don't tell. I'd read more of this if you want to post some.

Quick everyone steal his character

character stöllen.

I am actually flattered to have had my character stoellen.

I may edit this at some later date, but I only wrote this yesterday because when I woke up I had a strong, unsolicited urge to rewrite the story with new and changed elements. In particular, for some reason I had the exchange between Ilya and Andrey in mind, and now I think, "wow, where did that come from?" It probably stems from a dream that I've since completely forgotten.

I pretty much never get the urge to just write, so I might never come back to this, but if I do I'll expand and refine it a bit, especially the introduction (that was actually the last part of the story I wrote).

And just to show I was serious about how the story had changed significantly, well, here's the old version:

The Soviet cadet had been deployed to the front just the day before, when he crossed the Volga with his comrades – many of whom were dead by now. He had been only a few yards from his lieutenant when shrapnel from an artillery shell bore a clean hole through the officer's skull, killing him instantly. It was but the first of many gruesome deaths that the cadet would come to witness.

What was left of the platoon had taken shelter in an abandoned factory for the night. The soldiers were now exhausted, frightened, and leaderless – They were little more than rats left as game for the Nazis. Many of them were reluctant to sleep, and when rest did come the events of the past few days haunted their dreams. The private fared no better.

He crouched behind the door, his rifle loaded and ready to fire. He could hear the enemy in the other room as the wooden floor creaked and rats scurried across the floor. There were two of them, two filthy Nazis blathering in their filthy language. Such dirt that had come to defile the Motherland!

They were laughing now – They knew he was there. They knew what he thought. They were mocking him, a soldier in the Russian army! He wanted to kill them so much, to finally take revenge for his fallen comrades, but he couldn't bring himself to move. His breathing became harder and great volumes of air passed through his nostrils, alerting the world to his presence. He heard the loud bang of a rifle, and a rat which had been passively eating bread crumbs in front of the doorway was blown to pieces, its innards thrust to the floor. The Germans were laughing again. He knew what was to become of him.

The Nazis' boots steadily plodded towards the doorway, and the cadet's shivering became more intense with each advance. They were speaking to each other casually, undoubtedly bragging about what they had done with the bodies of his comrades. Now they were coming for one more.

The rifle's muzzle was the first thing that the cadet saw come across the threshold. Then came one boot, then two, then four, and at last he looked up and could see the entirety of both soldiers smiling down at him. He gripped the trigger tight as his rifle stood facing the roof, useless, for it seemed so heavy a burden in the soldier's frozen hands that it can't ever be brought level with the enemy.

One of the two soldiers was a corporal, and had clearly German features visible under the brim of his helmet. But something was amiss in the other's face, which seemed eerily familiar and was certainly not German. The cadet glanced at the rank embroidered into the soldier's sleeve. There he saw not a German emblem, but the insignia of a Russian lieutenant. His heart immediately filled with a completely different kind of terror, and the lieutenant's grin became even more sinister.

The lieutenant began to take his helmet off with an awful noise, as that of flesh tearing. Looking closer, the cadet was startled to see the face shift into something hideous. With the veil of humanity gone, the demon's bloodied and half-missing face was thus exposed in its true form. The demon lowered the rifle level to the soldier's head. He engulfed the young boy's soul in maniacal laughter as the German looked on, infinitely amused.

With the pull of the trigger came the same thunderous roar of merciless death. The soldier was now no better than the rat, or his comrades, or his soulless lieutenant. He felt something welling up inside himself, and he could no longer contain it.

He was still weeping as the dawn of light flooded the cold horizon.