In honor of those who lost their lives serving their country, this flash fiction is about soldiers. Please include the word somewhere in your entry. The winner will be announced Sun. 5/28, after the noon deadline.
For those in the US, I hope you have a safe and enjoyable holiday weekend! And to all those that have served, thank you.
Rules can be found here.
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Soliders Pride
I could hear them talking as they stood around me. Their words were muted by the roar
in my ears. I know what I should do but something prevented me from carrying out my duty.
My uniform was pressed and polished, my medals hanging across my chest. I should have been
filled with pride at how far I had come. I was going to serve my country and my family.
Something was wrong but I could not figure out what it was. Parts of conversations scattered
among the leaves. "He is in a better place now" rang in my ears as if to tell me what was going
on but I could not come to grips with it. Instead of pride on my family's face, tears tracked down
their faces.
Someone pressed something into my wife's hands, they shook as she took the item from them. My
fellow soliders walked by her, some of them hugged her, others simply saluted. I waited for them
to speak to me but not a single one spoke to me.
"We commit our brother to the ground, May he serve the Lord as he served us" Finally it sunk in
as the guns went off. I never made it to my earthy home but my heavenly home still waited for me.
It was with Pride and love I gave my life for my Country and my Family and I would do it again if I could.
Every year my grandpa and I walk to the town cemetery on Memorial Day and go to the Veterans’ section. Grandpa, once a strapping young solider, is now an old man bent with age. Grandpa moves a lot slower now and so I’m patient as we approach the gates. You can see the flags planted on every grave right as you walk in.
When we get there, Grandpa tips his hat to long dead friends. At the center of the Veteran’s section is the Vietnam Memorial. So many of our Soldiers died there. One night, the enemy attacked my grandfather’s platoon as they slept. They fought bravely, but many of Grandpa’s friends died.
As we approach the memorial, Grandpa’s face turns gray and his blue eyes are filled with tears. He reaches out and runs his fingers down the grey obelisk, touching the names of his friends etched on it. He puts his forehead to the stone. “I’m sorry I wasn’t good enough, fast enough,” he says.
A tear rolls down his cheek. I pat my grandpa on the back. “You couldn’t save them all,” I say.
He takes his head off the stone and looks up at the names. Another tear rolls down the other side of his face. “I hope they know I tried,” he says.
I pat him again. “They know.”
Grandpa clears his throat, wipes his eyes and smiles at me. “Let’s go,” he says.
I smile back and we make our way home.
The Teacup
The toddler was finally asleep. The young mother's bare feet slapped against the linoleum as she made her way through the small house, searching for her favorite teacup – one that Nana had given her, telling her to imagine a “Nana sugar-hug” when she used it – and the headed to the kitchen. She stood in front of the microwave as it reheated her ginger tea, rubbing her swollen belly and wondering if standing this close to the humming machine would hurt the baby.
When the microwave beeped, she took the flowered teacup and began to wander through the house, muttering to herself. Her whisperings weren't the shopping list, but rather, a two-sided conversation with her husband. Since he was 8,000 miles away, she answered for him as he would have, and smiled at his answers.
She continued the conversation as she weaved her way around the toddler toys strewn on the floor, but her path to the couch was interrupted by the sound of a car door. Curious, she changed direction and went to the window to peek around the curtain edge. Her heart squeezed as she watched a man in Class As shut his car door and join three other soldiers who were dressed the same. She held her breath as they glanced around; her lungs burning as she watched to see which house they would turn to.
Which life they would ruin.
Chamomile tea splattered her bare legs as Nana's sugar-hug teacup shattered on the hard floor.
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