Reality

Whispers.

Hands over mouths.

The room is spinning.

The mind has stopped.

Slow

So slow…

Shallow breaths.

Sharp, hiccupping, staccato stifled breaths.

Spots dancing before eyes.

A hand, a dark, shadowed, cloaked hand

Grasped the throat, gently squeezing.

Losing air.

L O S I N G A I R. . .

Eyes snapped open,

Chest heaving as blue eyes darted

To every corner, along every edge.

Something was up, something was wrong.

Untangling legs from sheets,

The person stood, stance tense

Expecting something at every moment,

It always happens now.

Soon, every night, every time eyes slid closed –

It hit.

Memories swallowed up reality

The smell of sweat, anxiety, and dirt

Blocked up senses.

Hands, face, legs, eyes

Were all gritty with sand,

Ears blocked off, the sounds muffled.

Clad in armor,

Soldiers ran as gunfire rained

The scarf covered faces darted here and there.

A cry of pain blasted through the stifling air

Opening numb senses.

But pain was just an obstacle.

They were trained to complete the mission.

So afraid. Afraid… Afraid. AFRAID!

The swirling sand continued to sway and dance

As a mine was uncovered.

Red numbers flashing as they counted to explosion,

3… 2… 1…

The world went red and brown.

Gulping for air,

Blue eyes flickered back into focus,

Alarmed hands scrabbled to open the hatch

Clammy skin reveling at the feel of freezing air.

December. It was December.

Right. It was winter.

Not June.

The memories slipped back into the center,

Creeping, whispering those treacherous thoughts.

Sand quickly flooded senses once more

Before a blast of cold wind

Brought reality back into check.

Elbows braced against the window frame,

Eyes stared into the dark shadows enveloping the night.

The soldier was sure it was gone-

Sand blasted around like a tornado,

The soldier was lost,

Knees buckling under,

Arms braced against something

Unseen.

Something wet,

Something cold,

Landed on numb cheeks.

Tears?

Or was it rain?

Eyes opened once more

To feel the rain drizzle on welcoming skin.

Sitting on the window sill,

The soldier fingered the platinum dog tags

Feeling the inscriptions and scratches

Under worn, callused fingers.

For now, the memories should stay away

But never will they disappear.

The drizzle turned to rain,

Thunder rumbling comfortingly

As troubled blue eyes

Gazed watching the raindrops fall

Silently.

AN This was written without any reference to a soldier, so if I have offended anyone in any shape or form, I am sorry. Hope you enjoyed it.