Straken
05-22-2008, 05:11 AM
Thought this up when I was washing dishes... Its a one-shot story. Felt it was kinda good, so I decided to write it down. Diverts my attention away from the other longer series I'm currently writing. Don't know what to title it.
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Iraq, Baghdad
11th November 2005
I ran on, my heart pumping hard. Beside me, he was running too, gasping for breath as we turned the corners, weaving through the intricate maze of dilapidated buildings. Night closed in around us, ever chasing, ever attacking. Gunfire rang around my ears, disrupting the eerie silence of the night. I ducked my head, crouching low yet still running fast. I had to. If they were to catch me… I did not want to think about what would happen next. We rounded the corner, and saw despair. Despair which came in the form of a thirteen-foot high wall. It was solid concrete, and offered no foothold of any sorts. Why was this wall the only unbroken structure? I thought frantically. I quickly made a decision.
“Up,” I said, holding my hands out as a foothold for him. He nodded at me breathlessly, leapt from my hands and onto the wall. He clung onto the ledge for a moment before disappearing on the other side. I stood there, waiting for his arms to reach out from above to pull me up.
Ten Seconds. Still no sign of the arms.
Twenty Seconds. The horrible truth began to gnaw at my soul.
Thirty Seconds. He was not coming back, I thought. Around me, the shadows were lighted up as a group of voices drew closer. Closer and closer. I laughed softly, a soft growl issuing from my throat. Then, when I made out what the voices were talking about, I sank against the wall, my dead end, and sobbed uncontrollably. Tears flowed down my cheeks, and into my open mouth.
“In the alley!” someone shouted. I lay in the darkness, staring as the shadows around me diminished. A group of around six people, all holding torches, surrounded me, with evil smiles lighting their faces.
“Get up,” a person, possibly the leader, said. I propped myself upwards against the wall, shaking gingerly. The leader barked orders to two of his men, and in a moment, they had handcuffed me, and were escorting me out of the alley. All this while, a prevalent thought ran through my mind repeatedly: Damn you, Michael! Damn you!
As the person escorting me shoved me forward roughly, I glanced up and saw a large dome building, with its roof half collapsed, looming in front of me. My Nightmare World.
That was the beginning of my nightmare.
Acute pain shot through my body. Like thousands of needles, they pierced penetrated my defenses. I shook my head groggily, staring at the warden. He carrying a whip, laced with thorns.
“What is the launch code?”
With every question, one whip would descend. That was the interrogation for today. I laughed softly, a quiet but eerie laughter. He repeated the question over and over again. I would not answer. Pain. It was a repeated process and I knew it. It did not matter whether I answered his questions or not. The whip would still come. A series of lashes sent my world spinning again. Vaguely, in my blurred vision, I saw the warden raise his whip, prepared for the next strike. He was asking something, but my ears were so muffled to sound I could barely hear what he was talking about. Then, when the next lash came, I gave in. My world darkened as I fell unconscious.
“They’re here!” someone shouted amidst the gunfire. The terrorists came in waves. Waves after waves, relentlessly. Our base was short on manpower, but we had to hold out. We had to. After all, we were protecting a key factor in this war.
“Colonel McLain!” one of my soldiers signaled to me. I rushed to where Lieutenant Michael Cruffs was standing. “What is it?” I asked desperately. Everyone was desperate. We were being overrun by toxic trucks, roughly made stinger missiles and those mini-rocket launchers the terrorists were carrying.
“We have to go, Colonel,” Michael said. “If we were to stay any longer, the terrorists would destroy us.” As though to emphasize the urgency, the blast shield shook violently against one of the terrorist’s missiles. I scanned the inner base. There were barely twenty soldiers left, and the fear in their eyes was all too clear.
“I am not going Michael. My place is with my soldiers,” I replied, a sense of loyalty towards my country suddenly overcoming me.
“Sir!” Michael half- cursed. “The Marines are not going to send help over! We must not depend on them!”
“We will stay, and defend the ballistic missile with our lives.”
I would have sworn that Michael could have hit me right there and then. “Colonel! You are the only one who knows the launch code! If you escape, they can do nothing with the missile!”
I shook my head stubbornly, and said, “We have to go down fighting.” It was my true American spirit, as I would like to call it, but it did not amount to much. Suddenly, a loud explosion sounded against our blast door, and after enduring repetitive hits from a mini- rocket launcher, it finally gave way. The door was torn clean from the hinges, and it flew six feet before crashing onto the ground with a reverberating clang. My resolve wavered as the terrorists flooded in with their old, but still superior weapons. There were about a hundred of them, against the twenty or so soldiers we had left. There was no way we could win!
Then, I considered Michael’s idea, and it now seemed so inviting. “Run,” I shouted to the other soldiers, before I headed to the back exit at full speed. The other soldiers did likewise, and dispersed, heading towards their nearest exit. I could not be bothered to see where they are going, but all I knew was that Michael was behind me, following. We left the base and weaved through the intricate alleyways of Baghdad, and soon we lost them.
Michael and I stopped for a breather, and it was then that the gravity of my rash actions hit me. I had left my men to fend for themselves. I had left the core of what I was protecting unprotected.
I had failed.
“I should not have ran,” I murmured, half to Michael, half to myself. The guilt sank like a deadweight onto my conscience. “I should not have.”
Michael looked at me for a moment, and finally, he said, “The men knew what they were in for when the rebels came.”
I looked up at Michael, smiling for the first time throughout this ordeal. He was like a friend, a person I could confide in. “Yea,” I said, “But I still would not forgive myself.”
“Michael. If I happen to not be able to escape, this is the launch code,” I said, before whispering something into his ears.
“Yessir,” he said before falling silent.
A series of shouts broke the silence between us. We looked at each other, nodded, and started running again, weaving through the intricate maze of dilapidated buildings. When we rounded the corner, we saw a thirteen-foot high wall. Swiftly, I offered to push Michael up first. I watched as he disappeared over the wall, and desperately waited for the rescuing hands to come. There was still time left for him to pull me over the wall.
Michael, come save me, I thought.
Michael, don’t betray me, I thought.
Michael, Michael, Michael.
MICHAEL!!!
I woke up abruptly, drenched in cold sweat. I was lying in on the cold, hard floor of the makeshift prison cell.
Around me, there were nothing but four solid walls and a door. The door was left opened. Why, one would ask, but the answer is that I would not escape. I could not. As the food came in, I scrambled on my hands towards it, dragging two short stumps which were once legs, behind me. The jailer looked at me disgustedly, before letting out a short, sadistic laughter. I devoured the food, like a savage wolf, before falling asleep.
Water woke me up. A bucket of freezing cold water dumped on my head. Then, the warden dragged me up and chained me against the walls. I smiled at him, infuriating him. The warden stood up, and took out a tool. Ah, I thought, it was the needle today. They were going to ask the same questions again: What is the launch code? I would not tell them. Not so much for my loyalty towards my country, but more for my survival. If the terrorists obtained what they wanted, I would not be needed anymore. I would become obsolete, and they would kill me. Deep in my mind, I knew that me not telling was the only thing keeping me alive, and I intend for it to stay the same. I shall survive. I shall live. And when I am free, I shall go back and find Michael. I shall find him and punish him.
For his betrayal.
When the interrogation began, I retreated into a corner of my mind. In the distant, my screams and shouts were mere muffled cries. This is all a nightmare, I thought as pain spread through my body. This is all a nightmare. Despite all my bravado, pain is not something a human being can withstand for long. Soon, I wanted for the pain to stop, but yet, I knew that the only way for my torturing to stop would be to be dead. Let it end, I pleaded. Let it end.
I did not know how long had passed. Days, weeks, months or years perhaps. When they finally came, I remembered hallucinating them as angels. The Liberation Soldiers. I was freed from the cell, along with several other unfortunate ones. I remembered that day, when I was waiting for the non-forthcoming soldiers. The soldiers had put me on a stretcher, and were carrying me to a helicopter. It was then that I asked them, “What is the date today?”
“10th October 2007,” one of them replied.
I sighed and let my eyes close. Two years, I thought. Two years and I was finally free. Free from this nightmare.
Nothing was over, however. The doctors treated my wounds as best as they could, but scars remain. The memory wounds were etched too deeply to forget. Michael was too much to forget. His betrayal. I looked down at the two stumps I had for thighs. This would serve to remind me of his betrayal and cowardice.
I sighed and rolled my wheelchair out of the hospital, into the glorious sunshine of a civilized city once more. Cars were caught in the morning jam, pedestrians filled the sidewalks. So much had changed, but it was home at last for me. Then, a child holding his mother’s hands pointed at me, saying something. His mother saw me. Immediately, she turned the boy’s head towards herself, averting his gaze. It was then that I noticed the wide berth I was given. The pedestrians were avoiding me, leaving a circle about one meter wide around me. A no man zone.
It was then that the truth struck me. In the middle of the streets of New York, I threw my head back and laughed, sobbing uncontrollably at the same time.
I had ended a nightmare, just to step into a new one.
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Well, please comment as always. Thanks.
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Iraq, Baghdad
11th November 2005
I ran on, my heart pumping hard. Beside me, he was running too, gasping for breath as we turned the corners, weaving through the intricate maze of dilapidated buildings. Night closed in around us, ever chasing, ever attacking. Gunfire rang around my ears, disrupting the eerie silence of the night. I ducked my head, crouching low yet still running fast. I had to. If they were to catch me… I did not want to think about what would happen next. We rounded the corner, and saw despair. Despair which came in the form of a thirteen-foot high wall. It was solid concrete, and offered no foothold of any sorts. Why was this wall the only unbroken structure? I thought frantically. I quickly made a decision.
“Up,” I said, holding my hands out as a foothold for him. He nodded at me breathlessly, leapt from my hands and onto the wall. He clung onto the ledge for a moment before disappearing on the other side. I stood there, waiting for his arms to reach out from above to pull me up.
Ten Seconds. Still no sign of the arms.
Twenty Seconds. The horrible truth began to gnaw at my soul.
Thirty Seconds. He was not coming back, I thought. Around me, the shadows were lighted up as a group of voices drew closer. Closer and closer. I laughed softly, a soft growl issuing from my throat. Then, when I made out what the voices were talking about, I sank against the wall, my dead end, and sobbed uncontrollably. Tears flowed down my cheeks, and into my open mouth.
“In the alley!” someone shouted. I lay in the darkness, staring as the shadows around me diminished. A group of around six people, all holding torches, surrounded me, with evil smiles lighting their faces.
“Get up,” a person, possibly the leader, said. I propped myself upwards against the wall, shaking gingerly. The leader barked orders to two of his men, and in a moment, they had handcuffed me, and were escorting me out of the alley. All this while, a prevalent thought ran through my mind repeatedly: Damn you, Michael! Damn you!
As the person escorting me shoved me forward roughly, I glanced up and saw a large dome building, with its roof half collapsed, looming in front of me. My Nightmare World.
That was the beginning of my nightmare.
Acute pain shot through my body. Like thousands of needles, they pierced penetrated my defenses. I shook my head groggily, staring at the warden. He carrying a whip, laced with thorns.
“What is the launch code?”
With every question, one whip would descend. That was the interrogation for today. I laughed softly, a quiet but eerie laughter. He repeated the question over and over again. I would not answer. Pain. It was a repeated process and I knew it. It did not matter whether I answered his questions or not. The whip would still come. A series of lashes sent my world spinning again. Vaguely, in my blurred vision, I saw the warden raise his whip, prepared for the next strike. He was asking something, but my ears were so muffled to sound I could barely hear what he was talking about. Then, when the next lash came, I gave in. My world darkened as I fell unconscious.
“They’re here!” someone shouted amidst the gunfire. The terrorists came in waves. Waves after waves, relentlessly. Our base was short on manpower, but we had to hold out. We had to. After all, we were protecting a key factor in this war.
“Colonel McLain!” one of my soldiers signaled to me. I rushed to where Lieutenant Michael Cruffs was standing. “What is it?” I asked desperately. Everyone was desperate. We were being overrun by toxic trucks, roughly made stinger missiles and those mini-rocket launchers the terrorists were carrying.
“We have to go, Colonel,” Michael said. “If we were to stay any longer, the terrorists would destroy us.” As though to emphasize the urgency, the blast shield shook violently against one of the terrorist’s missiles. I scanned the inner base. There were barely twenty soldiers left, and the fear in their eyes was all too clear.
“I am not going Michael. My place is with my soldiers,” I replied, a sense of loyalty towards my country suddenly overcoming me.
“Sir!” Michael half- cursed. “The Marines are not going to send help over! We must not depend on them!”
“We will stay, and defend the ballistic missile with our lives.”
I would have sworn that Michael could have hit me right there and then. “Colonel! You are the only one who knows the launch code! If you escape, they can do nothing with the missile!”
I shook my head stubbornly, and said, “We have to go down fighting.” It was my true American spirit, as I would like to call it, but it did not amount to much. Suddenly, a loud explosion sounded against our blast door, and after enduring repetitive hits from a mini- rocket launcher, it finally gave way. The door was torn clean from the hinges, and it flew six feet before crashing onto the ground with a reverberating clang. My resolve wavered as the terrorists flooded in with their old, but still superior weapons. There were about a hundred of them, against the twenty or so soldiers we had left. There was no way we could win!
Then, I considered Michael’s idea, and it now seemed so inviting. “Run,” I shouted to the other soldiers, before I headed to the back exit at full speed. The other soldiers did likewise, and dispersed, heading towards their nearest exit. I could not be bothered to see where they are going, but all I knew was that Michael was behind me, following. We left the base and weaved through the intricate alleyways of Baghdad, and soon we lost them.
Michael and I stopped for a breather, and it was then that the gravity of my rash actions hit me. I had left my men to fend for themselves. I had left the core of what I was protecting unprotected.
I had failed.
“I should not have ran,” I murmured, half to Michael, half to myself. The guilt sank like a deadweight onto my conscience. “I should not have.”
Michael looked at me for a moment, and finally, he said, “The men knew what they were in for when the rebels came.”
I looked up at Michael, smiling for the first time throughout this ordeal. He was like a friend, a person I could confide in. “Yea,” I said, “But I still would not forgive myself.”
“Michael. If I happen to not be able to escape, this is the launch code,” I said, before whispering something into his ears.
“Yessir,” he said before falling silent.
A series of shouts broke the silence between us. We looked at each other, nodded, and started running again, weaving through the intricate maze of dilapidated buildings. When we rounded the corner, we saw a thirteen-foot high wall. Swiftly, I offered to push Michael up first. I watched as he disappeared over the wall, and desperately waited for the rescuing hands to come. There was still time left for him to pull me over the wall.
Michael, come save me, I thought.
Michael, don’t betray me, I thought.
Michael, Michael, Michael.
MICHAEL!!!
I woke up abruptly, drenched in cold sweat. I was lying in on the cold, hard floor of the makeshift prison cell.
Around me, there were nothing but four solid walls and a door. The door was left opened. Why, one would ask, but the answer is that I would not escape. I could not. As the food came in, I scrambled on my hands towards it, dragging two short stumps which were once legs, behind me. The jailer looked at me disgustedly, before letting out a short, sadistic laughter. I devoured the food, like a savage wolf, before falling asleep.
Water woke me up. A bucket of freezing cold water dumped on my head. Then, the warden dragged me up and chained me against the walls. I smiled at him, infuriating him. The warden stood up, and took out a tool. Ah, I thought, it was the needle today. They were going to ask the same questions again: What is the launch code? I would not tell them. Not so much for my loyalty towards my country, but more for my survival. If the terrorists obtained what they wanted, I would not be needed anymore. I would become obsolete, and they would kill me. Deep in my mind, I knew that me not telling was the only thing keeping me alive, and I intend for it to stay the same. I shall survive. I shall live. And when I am free, I shall go back and find Michael. I shall find him and punish him.
For his betrayal.
When the interrogation began, I retreated into a corner of my mind. In the distant, my screams and shouts were mere muffled cries. This is all a nightmare, I thought as pain spread through my body. This is all a nightmare. Despite all my bravado, pain is not something a human being can withstand for long. Soon, I wanted for the pain to stop, but yet, I knew that the only way for my torturing to stop would be to be dead. Let it end, I pleaded. Let it end.
I did not know how long had passed. Days, weeks, months or years perhaps. When they finally came, I remembered hallucinating them as angels. The Liberation Soldiers. I was freed from the cell, along with several other unfortunate ones. I remembered that day, when I was waiting for the non-forthcoming soldiers. The soldiers had put me on a stretcher, and were carrying me to a helicopter. It was then that I asked them, “What is the date today?”
“10th October 2007,” one of them replied.
I sighed and let my eyes close. Two years, I thought. Two years and I was finally free. Free from this nightmare.
Nothing was over, however. The doctors treated my wounds as best as they could, but scars remain. The memory wounds were etched too deeply to forget. Michael was too much to forget. His betrayal. I looked down at the two stumps I had for thighs. This would serve to remind me of his betrayal and cowardice.
I sighed and rolled my wheelchair out of the hospital, into the glorious sunshine of a civilized city once more. Cars were caught in the morning jam, pedestrians filled the sidewalks. So much had changed, but it was home at last for me. Then, a child holding his mother’s hands pointed at me, saying something. His mother saw me. Immediately, she turned the boy’s head towards herself, averting his gaze. It was then that I noticed the wide berth I was given. The pedestrians were avoiding me, leaving a circle about one meter wide around me. A no man zone.
It was then that the truth struck me. In the middle of the streets of New York, I threw my head back and laughed, sobbing uncontrollably at the same time.
I had ended a nightmare, just to step into a new one.
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Well, please comment as always. Thanks.