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The truth was I wasn't fine. In my dream my attackers had adams face and he laughed a he pulled the trigger, my vision exploding red.
She woke up in the morning, to find an empty pillow where he laid. Went down and drank a coffee, then finished off the other one she'd made.
Eyes... Bruises.... Demons.... Blood..... Pain..... Flames.... Surrounding... Burning.. Faceless.... Faces... Escape. Need to get out. Wake up!Not real. Sure it was real. Fine.. Forget... Move on...
A poem about the world war one trenches:. Bang, bang. The guns are still firing. I'd try to go to sleep but I'm to scared. Plip, plop. The waters still dropping. I'd try to get dry if I still cared.
When I saw him walking around the corner, carrying two dark duffel bags and wearing digital camouflage, tears brimmed my eyes. He was back. My knight in green armor. He was back home.
My first story. Written in the bathroom. Based on a half-remembered dream, inspired by soldiers who have spent their lives serving our country and cannot adjust back to a regular life.