Fire

We release one arrow after another into the black haze that surrounds us, but nothing seems to stem the flow of beings that sweep into our midst. One after another, we fall… Black shapes seem to float by, everything in slow motion. Left and then Right, swing, stab, block, Thwap… another brother down… when will this end… Left, Right… endlessly it goes on… and then they're gone, as simply as that. And when the haze clears in the morning there isn't a body left on the field, theirs or ours… This is a terrible war…

Fire
I watch it
As it burns everything
And I love it
Fire

Waking From A Nightmare

Shells pound all around me and we just stand here. Sometimes I imagine that I can see the shells whistling through the sky towards us. But they never hit where I imagine them. Not seeing them is so much worse. It's not like I thought it would be. I just wanted to serve. Now I imagine my body being torn. I wonder what it's like to be struck in the head, if I see white or if I just appear in heaven. I wonder if people have an instant recognition of death. Or if their spirit is left momentarily in shock and confusion. Shock at being free from these weak bodies…My wife won't recognize me right now. I'm so scared. I sit down and don't even notice the piece of glass that imbeds itself in my palm. Blood oozes but I ignore it. I just listen for the whistle and the call. "12:00 500 Meters GO GO GO!" And we run like the wind. Nothing will stop us, because we just want to get home. Where did I get this cut? And I don't think I'm scared. There's not time to be scared right now, no time to think about home or to feel the loss. I only imagine what she would feel if she could see me now. She would be so scared for me… So I'm brave, for Her. We try to stay low, and we wait for our opportunity…Please love me when I'm gone. Because my lack of goodbye haunts me before I even leave you. I love you, so far away. Please forgive me for leaving, and love me when I'm gone.

I don't know where this is going

The sun is rising in the wrong direction today…Either this flu has really set me back, or more than just the contents of my stomach has changed overnight. I’m freaked… I wonder if I should go out the front door or not, but then common sense and a healthy dose of fear remind me that either this is a dream and I’m about to wake up, or I’m not in Oklahoma anymore. Then I decide that if this is a dream I can’t get hurt, and if I’m not in Oklahoma anymore… well things are already screwed up and they can’t get much worse.The air is completely dead I don’t hear a sound, not a squirrel running, or a bird chirping. No trains, planes, cars, sirens… nothing. I’ve never been one to have realistic dreams. As soon as realism begins to hit my dreams, I wake up… I read somewhere that it’s weird to do that… I don’t know, but it’s normal. I should be ok right now then, because this dream isn’t realistic… and yet it’s somehow realistically deadly. The air isn’t just still, it’s dead. The trains aren’t just gone, they’re taken. Destroyed maybe. Yeah… I somehow get that all from the lack of noise around me. The lack of everything except my breathing. And the crunch of the grass on the lawn…
I turn to walk back to the house, the front screen door slamming only accentuates the silence outside but I ignore it for the moment and head for the kitchen. Ready for a bowl of cereal. I’m not one for troubling myself with things, but this is going a bit far even for me. However the possibilities outside are limitless and I would rather force myself to think of all the reasons why I might not hear a thing outside. And then I open my eyes and the darkness around me tells me that the dream is back again…rolling over I struggle with my conscious and force myself back into a light slumber. Fear is a weakness I mumble and my thoughts fade for the moment.

I look out the window and the sun seems to have righted itself somewhere between the space of my eyelids going from shut to open, from dream to reality. Somehow it’s a relief to know I can face yet another day of blissful waiting. This waiting kills me, it’s no wonder I have dreams like last nights.My room here might as well be a prison. I get up and check the locks again. And again I’m thankful for the skylight that gives me some kind of sign there’s life outside of this place. I’m here by choice. That’s when I’m told, but that’s as far as my memory can reach.The walls seem to be cement slabs, the only light is from the skylight above. The floor is carpeted in carpeting far more rich than anything else in this room seems to suggest is warranted. I’m not sure how I know, but this room is more than a couple of stories in the air… I think I want out now… so I start to plan, because I know they won’t let me out voluntarily, again I don’t know why or how. But they won’t let me..