A War Story
Short Story.
Beside me good men fell to the ground their chests red with blood where the lead bullets lodged themselves inside of them, I turned and watched as one by one they dropped lowering our numbers by many.
Though this did not stop me from continuing on, I was determined I had a debt to settle and the only way I could be stopped was if they shot me down like my comrades before me.
Launching my self forward over my fellow men and those of my Korean enemies I held my head up high shooting as many bullets at them as they shot at me. I took down many of their men within minutes.
But it didn’t seem enough; my blood was boiling as rage took over my body. All I could think of was my father and how much I wanted revenge. To the point where it affected my judgment and that was all it took. A gun went off in front of me then I fell to the ground clutching where the bullet had struck me down.
As I lay there motionless on the ground, watching the blood pour from my chest. My vision blurring, my surroundings slowly becoming dark. Memories of my past flooding through my mind.
At the age of six I lost my father, I could see myself sitting in a small boat, floating in the water. Holding a fishing rod, helping my little brother thread his line. I looked over to the other side, to catch a small glimpse of my father's face. I remember it briefly, for I haven’t seen even a photo of him for years. We were laughing about something, it was wonderful.
Then suddenly that memory was snatched away from me.
All I could see was black; I knew that I wasn’t completely gone for I could still hear the screams of the men in the back round fearing for their lives. Just as I thought I could see someone moving around in front of me, her face moved into my mind.
It was the most beautiful face I had ever seen, I remember her so well. I remember the first time we met, we had an instant connect. She was amazing, what I would give just to hold her one last time. I focused hard on my thoughts. I could see her sitting on an old wooden chair on our front porch, our little boy sitting beside her, playing with his most favourite toy car. I remember buying that for him.
A thin line of light, made its way into my eyes. I could see the bloody dirt I was laying on, worn down boots running past me, belonging to the men who fought bravely not knowing the fate that was soon to become of them.
My eye’s opened entirely; I could see everything around me. I could hear everything around me. When all of a sudden my eyes closed, and significant moments of my life flashed before my eyes.
I saw myself taking my first steps from another person’s point of view, which was strange for me.
Everyone was cheering, I was standing behind my father in our living room from the house I grew up in. Wind blowing in through the window beside him, his dark black hair blowing slightly, I moved to the side, where I saw the side of my fathers face, he was smiling, clapping for my movements. His eyes bright with excitement.
Just when I was about to move more around so I could see my fathers face properly, I moved to another memory.
My first day of school, it wasn’t as terrifying as most people’s first days. I was standing in the kitchen, my mother zipped up the front of my jacket, handing me a small backpack. There was a bus honking from the street, I smiled. I kissed my mother on the cheek hugging her tightly; my father wasn’t there that day.
I looked at my mother, “Where’s daddy?” I asked. My mother put on a smile. Making sure not to upset me. “He went out for awhile remember, to help the country?” I nodded. I ran for the door, pulling on the handle and falling outside, for where the ride to school awaited.
Just as I was about to enter the school bus, I moved to my first day of high school.
Once again I was in another kitchen, this time in a different house. After my father died we moved, for my mother couldn’t stand living in a house with too many memories. I looked at myself from back then, my face all pimply, my hair scraggily and un-groomed. I smiled at my mother, as she handed me my backpack, much larger than the one from before. I knew how much my father would have loved to be here, I know he would have been so proud of me. I was attending a high school for kids with a gift for learning. “I wish that dad was here.” I said to my mother as she hugged me. “He would be so proud of you Brendan.” I smiled, once again hearing the honking.
Just as I was about to open my door, everything went dark.
I saw myself on wedding day, the ghost of my father standing beside me, smiling. I knew he was there I could just feel his presence; I knew he would’ve hated to miss that day.
I suddenly couldn’t hear or see anything. I knew that finally my life had come to an early finish. I saw my father standing before me. “Welcome son.” He hugged me, as we walked on. My life had ended just the way my father before me, my son will feel the loss that I did all these years ago.
Though this did not stop me from continuing on, I was determined I had a debt to settle and the only way I could be stopped was if they shot me down like my comrades before me.
Launching my self forward over my fellow men and those of my Korean enemies I held my head up high shooting as many bullets at them as they shot at me. I took down many of their men within minutes.
But it didn’t seem enough; my blood was boiling as rage took over my body. All I could think of was my father and how much I wanted revenge. To the point where it affected my judgment and that was all it took. A gun went off in front of me then I fell to the ground clutching where the bullet had struck me down.
As I lay there motionless on the ground, watching the blood pour from my chest. My vision blurring, my surroundings slowly becoming dark. Memories of my past flooding through my mind.
At the age of six I lost my father, I could see myself sitting in a small boat, floating in the water. Holding a fishing rod, helping my little brother thread his line. I looked over to the other side, to catch a small glimpse of my father's face. I remember it briefly, for I haven’t seen even a photo of him for years. We were laughing about something, it was wonderful.
Then suddenly that memory was snatched away from me.
All I could see was black; I knew that I wasn’t completely gone for I could still hear the screams of the men in the back round fearing for their lives. Just as I thought I could see someone moving around in front of me, her face moved into my mind.
It was the most beautiful face I had ever seen, I remember her so well. I remember the first time we met, we had an instant connect. She was amazing, what I would give just to hold her one last time. I focused hard on my thoughts. I could see her sitting on an old wooden chair on our front porch, our little boy sitting beside her, playing with his most favourite toy car. I remember buying that for him.
A thin line of light, made its way into my eyes. I could see the bloody dirt I was laying on, worn down boots running past me, belonging to the men who fought bravely not knowing the fate that was soon to become of them.
My eye’s opened entirely; I could see everything around me. I could hear everything around me. When all of a sudden my eyes closed, and significant moments of my life flashed before my eyes.
I saw myself taking my first steps from another person’s point of view, which was strange for me.
Everyone was cheering, I was standing behind my father in our living room from the house I grew up in. Wind blowing in through the window beside him, his dark black hair blowing slightly, I moved to the side, where I saw the side of my fathers face, he was smiling, clapping for my movements. His eyes bright with excitement.
Just when I was about to move more around so I could see my fathers face properly, I moved to another memory.
My first day of school, it wasn’t as terrifying as most people’s first days. I was standing in the kitchen, my mother zipped up the front of my jacket, handing me a small backpack. There was a bus honking from the street, I smiled. I kissed my mother on the cheek hugging her tightly; my father wasn’t there that day.
I looked at my mother, “Where’s daddy?” I asked. My mother put on a smile. Making sure not to upset me. “He went out for awhile remember, to help the country?” I nodded. I ran for the door, pulling on the handle and falling outside, for where the ride to school awaited.
Just as I was about to enter the school bus, I moved to my first day of high school.
Once again I was in another kitchen, this time in a different house. After my father died we moved, for my mother couldn’t stand living in a house with too many memories. I looked at myself from back then, my face all pimply, my hair scraggily and un-groomed. I smiled at my mother, as she handed me my backpack, much larger than the one from before. I knew how much my father would have loved to be here, I know he would have been so proud of me. I was attending a high school for kids with a gift for learning. “I wish that dad was here.” I said to my mother as she hugged me. “He would be so proud of you Brendan.” I smiled, once again hearing the honking.
Just as I was about to open my door, everything went dark.
I saw myself on wedding day, the ghost of my father standing beside me, smiling. I knew he was there I could just feel his presence; I knew he would’ve hated to miss that day.
I suddenly couldn’t hear or see anything. I knew that finally my life had come to an early finish. I saw my father standing before me. “Welcome son.” He hugged me, as we walked on. My life had ended just the way my father before me, my son will feel the loss that I did all these years ago.