Creative Writing: The Cold War
Arriving home, his meeting with Abda Afridi had triggered a fresh wave of inner conflict. His, sweats and nightmares returned with a fury unleashed. No matter how hard he tried to escape to his secret place, all he found was an uncontrollable shivering.
His hair-raising escape from the Syrian farmhouse, played back like a horror video, leaving him crippled with fear. As he experienced it all over again, his eyes darted everywhere looking for any perceived threat.
When he glanced down at his hands, he saw again the little boy’s blood. For years he tried to scrub it away, it was indelibly imprinted in his memory. The sights, sounds and smell of the moment when he took that young life, panicked him. Guilt, like a firestorm, raged within.
‘What …show more content…
Looking towards his squad, he saw that Snake was in trouble. Two ISIS fighters had leapfrogged from boulder to boulder. Snake couldn’t see them, he was engaging other targets. They were almost on him.
Tank rose up from his position, just enough to have a clear shot at them. He concentrated his finger pressure on the weapon back to full machine gun mode. The weapon obeyed and launched a hail of bullets. ‘Splash two,’ he thought as they went down. The squad finally made it out in one piece.
Every face was his to remember for the rest of his life. During the war, he had personally greased 127 and relived the moment that each of them died.
He had watched hundreds of his allies fall in the field and he couldn’t help them. It was impossible to save his fellow soldiers whose blood so often covered his uniform. He couldn’t help Shogun. What more he could have done eluded him. He wished that Calvin Singleton, the man who led him to the Lord was around to talk to. He felt alone and helpless.
There was no point in speaking to the people at church. As far as he knew, he was the only veteran in the bunch. He spoke to the Lord but saw no immediate answer’s to his prayers. Every day he searched for a word of comfort in the
His hair-raising escape from the Syrian farmhouse, played back like a horror video, leaving him crippled with fear. As he experienced it all over again, his eyes darted everywhere looking for any perceived threat.
When he glanced down at his hands, he saw again the little boy’s blood. For years he tried to scrub it away, it was indelibly imprinted in his memory. The sights, sounds and smell of the moment when he took that young life, panicked him. Guilt, like a firestorm, raged within.
‘What …show more content…
Looking towards his squad, he saw that Snake was in trouble. Two ISIS fighters had leapfrogged from boulder to boulder. Snake couldn’t see them, he was engaging other targets. They were almost on him.
Tank rose up from his position, just enough to have a clear shot at them. He concentrated his finger pressure on the weapon back to full machine gun mode. The weapon obeyed and launched a hail of bullets. ‘Splash two,’ he thought as they went down. The squad finally made it out in one piece.
Every face was his to remember for the rest of his life. During the war, he had personally greased 127 and relived the moment that each of them died.
He had watched hundreds of his allies fall in the field and he couldn’t help them. It was impossible to save his fellow soldiers whose blood so often covered his uniform. He couldn’t help Shogun. What more he could have done eluded him. He wished that Calvin Singleton, the man who led him to the Lord was around to talk to. He felt alone and helpless.
There was no point in speaking to the people at church. As far as he knew, he was the only veteran in the bunch. He spoke to the Lord but saw no immediate answer’s to his prayers. Every day he searched for a word of comfort in the