For this Piccadilly Write the Story story, I let my husband choose the story. This is what he chose.
War on Foreign Soil
Include the following in your story:
- amputated
- calisthenics
- global
- patriot
- curtain
- walnut
- banana
- fixture
- carbonate
- bluetooth
I was a patriot because I was raised to be a patriot. I never questioned loyalty to my country. I never considered not loving my country.
I knew I would grow up to be a soldier. It was what my father had been. And his father before him. And so on and so forth for as many fathers as we could trace back in our family line.
I loved the calisthenics of gym class, so basic training was a breeze for me. I hadn’t considered global tensions when I had enlisted on my eighteenth birthday. I had expected to spend my years marching around base and saying “Yes, sir,” a lot just as my father had.
I was going to find me a pretty girl. If she could bake my grandma’s banana bread with the toasted walnuts just the way I liked them, I might have even married her. We’d be a fixture in the community because everyone loved her as much as I did.
But those were just dreams. Dreams that were dashed by a war on foreign soil I never should have stepped foot on. The bluetooth navigation system led our convoy right into the enemy’s hands.
Instead of lying in bed beside a beautiful wife, I find myself here on this cold metal slab. The flimsy curtain that separates me from the rest of the room billows in an imaginary breeze as I slip in and out of consciousness.
The words that float to me from the other side of that divide are foreign. I can’t remember if I recognize them. I think I heard the word amputated or maybe it was carbonated.
The darkness closes in.
Love Sick: Stories is out now
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ShldBWriting 