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 |   Poems and prose for various contests over the course of the decade. |
| Darkness and a long tunnel. That was all he could remember. Four bleak walls stood staring back at him. He had paced. He had screamed. He had cried. But nothing and no one seemed to care. Each day bread and water on a tray were shoved through the metal opening in the door. He caught it before it clamoured to the floor, then huddled to the corner to scarf down what little sustenance he could muster. How long he'd been there he did not know, but one glimmering memory kept him sane. He remembered the sweet arms of his wife wrapped around him as they had tumbled into a bed, soft and fragrant as a lavender sachet. They had made love with a mixture of love and desperation. Time apart often sent them spinning into a cyclone of need and desire. He could not get enough. When she had left him to return to work, he had gathered his gear and headed back out to the Front. The war still needed to be won. The grizzly details hung around him, reminding him that he was a soldier and he had a mission to follow. A mission that had failed miserably sending many of his men further into the depths of hell. Some had died brutal deaths, others, like him, had been captured and tortured. He'd been beaten within an inch of his life. Only the sweet memory, held him in the palm of its hand. It was his lifeline. Days blurred into months. The unknown was a gaping hole, dark and cavernous. The day rescue came was thunderous. Conner huddled in his corner unable to make out the screams and bombings. Sounds pounded him and it was all he could do to keep it together. When the heavy, metal door of his cell was thrown open, he blinked unseeing as soldiers entered. He was too weak to fight when they lifted him off the floor. He was unable to speak or make out the muffled rumble of voices. He was loaded into a helicopter and as the burning rumble of his encampment receded, he blacked out. When he came to, he was warm and bound in bandages. A nurse smiled sweetly at him as she mopped his brow with cool water. Her words were still a muffled vortex. She gave him water and fed him a mixture of pureed food that seemed to fortify him. After several days he was sitting up in bed feeling more human and less like a caged animal. Sun streamed in through the window lifting his spirits and he pulled fresh freedom into his lungs. He was alive. His ordeal was over. By the end of the week, he had a visitor. His wife. She was his angel bathed in the sun's glorious glow. In her arms she held a bundle of blue. She smiled down at him as she tipped the bundle his way. A sweet face twisted in a cry, then settled as she handed the bundle to him. There was a blossoming of feeling that seemed to radiate its own special warmth as Conner looked upon the small child in his arms. This truly was a blessing. A gift. One that played on his heartstrings and could not keep the smile from his face. The past slid away. He could see the future open up and be hopeful. He tipped his face up to see the tears of joy slip over his wife's cheek. With his bandaged hand, he wiped them away and smiled at her. She leaned in to kiss his lips and he knew he was finally home. This story is 608 words. Notes ▼     |
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