War and History Fiction posted October 13, 2011

This work has reached the exceptional level
Why me? A war driven story in under 500 words.

War is over but not the battle

by Blue Diamond

War Contest Winner 
"No. I'm not going to do it. It's no good giving me that look. I don't want to think about it again." I sat back in the chair, breathing deeply, trying to quell the nausea churning in my stomach. I allowed my eyes to focus on hers for just a brief fleeting moment. The shame was palpable. I just wanted out. I didn't understand. Did anything matter? What was there to decide? My thoughts were so confused and pounded behind my eyes as a twisted mosaic of images and sounds. Am I mad? Soon would be if I didn't do something. The sweat trickled down the back of my neck and under my white gown.

"Maybe that hypnosis stuff might help," I ventured into the expectant silence. "I'll try if you're sure." My voice was nearly calm and measured. "I remember so little." My insides screamed in silent protest. "Let's try....."

There's no doubt she has a lovely voice, our Dr Fielding, or Cathy as she had proffered in a would-be bonding moment. She is reassuring, in a soft, feminine but very professional way. Her hair pinned back in a work-like bun, holding promise of flowing auburn locks when set free. Attractive, I thought sardonically, trying not to focus my stare around the struggling top button of her smart grey jacket. "Now Michael, close your eyes, "she intoned. So much more commanding than it sounded, distracting me from thinking about the Michael that I am. Or am not? My heavy eyelids met and greeted each other in obedient darkness. "9, 8, 7....." This was a countdown to what and where, exactly? I was praying for a different ending. For now, I was hers. "God help me," I thought silently.

I was sitting in the front of the jeep. Tom was driving, his cap pulled to one side seemingly to compensate for his lop-sided mouth actions. Damn chewing gum. Hate that stuff. Wow, it seemed to be getting hotter. Clouds of dust and sand swirled behind us. It then seemed to slow right down and drift into a sepia photograph. It was silent, motionless and scary as hell.

"Michael. What happened next?" It was Cathy's voice that had just pressed play and careered me forward to where I knew I didn't want to go.

There it was. The sudden cloud of dust just to my right as the oil drum tumbled down the dune. As I yelled, the breath was dragged from my lungs by Tom's attempted swerve. The bomb exploded with savage fury. The noise erupted, spurting fire and brimstone and a large chunk of Tom against me. I knew I was dead as blackening red became silent black. I had remembered.

"Michael. It's OK," whispered Cathy as she touched my bandaged hand.

It wasn't. It never would be, ever again. My war was over just as surely as all my hopes and dreams. My tears dropped silently onto the stumps strapped lifelessly to the wheelchair. "Why me?"

Writing Prompt
Write a story where a character is in war or is about to be in war. Fiction or non-fiction.

Contest Winner


I dedicate this to all who have paid the price of war, in all its horror, sadness and tragic consequences. May love and peace ultimately prevail. (499 words)
Pays one point and 2 member cents.

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