My Soldier

Another random scribble. Not really inspired by anything in particular, just kind of needed to write. =)

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“Porter! Oh god, Porter you’re here!” Megan sprinted to him, shrieking ecstatic remarks to him. “You’re back, god I missed you!”

He smiled, a warm expression lighting up his chocolate eyes. “I missed you too Megs,” he pulled her into a strong hug, warm and deep, “a lot.”

She buried her face in his shirt, enjoying the scent of his cologne. When she looked up she realized they were the only couple standing around and a few people were staring at them. A light blush warmed her cheeks. “Those little kids over there are being scarred.” She teased under her breath.

Porter reached down and swung her up in his arms, “Let them be! This is you and me. I’m home now, for two weeks–two infinitely long but depressingly short weeks–and I won’t waste a single second of them because two little kids at the airport are scarred by me *hugging* my wife.”

A small, dimpled smile creased her face and she looked up at him adoringly. The title was so perfect, so utterly descriptive but brief all the same. She was only one thing, after all. His wife. The rest were only second hand titles.

Porter carried her out of the airport and Megan spent the whole time murmuring to him about everything he had missed in the last six months. Watching the people that stopped to smile at the soldier in uniform carrying his girl through the airport. Let them smile. She and Porter were a fairytale in of itself, and they were living their happily ever after.

Porter set her down when he got to the Mustang, opened the door for her, but didn’t let her get in. Instead he stood there with his hands on her waist, looking down the eight inches to her face. “God I missed you Megs. More than I ever thought possible.”

“I missed you too baby. But what happened to not wasting a single second?” her voice was no more than a gentle hum of contentment, floating up to him with a slight hint of teasing to match the twinkle in her bright blue eyes.

“I’m not wasting,” he murmured, “just savoring.”

She smiled as he reached down to kiss her, cupping her chin in his strong hand. She kissed him back, so happy she thought she may burst trying to contain all of the emotions coursing through her. So happy she might die when he had to leave again in two weeks, except the promise of real return in six months.

Porter pulled away and helped her into the car a minute later, walking around to the driver’s seat in a few steady strides. “Well Mrs. Williams, shall we go?”

Megan grinned, “Yes Mr. Williams, do let’s.”

He turned the key and the hum of he engine started immediately, off to enjoy their short escape from reality.


Finally! A New Piece!

Well, it’s been a long time since I’ve posted and in that time I’ve managed to have a ton of adventures and suffer horrible writers block. But now I’m finally over that and I’m back writing. This one is loosely based off of several prompts of mine and BeKindRewrite’s. =)

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“Don’t leave me!” She gripped the hem of his shirt desperately, blind with pain. The moderator. Pain decided everything. Whether she was awake or lost in the voids of her mind. That she couldn’t see the beach, or go to the fair with Sam.

“Never.” His soft whisper brought her back to reality. Or was this the other world? The nightmare realm? Where up wasn’t always up and color swam through the skies. Where blood flowed through the rivers and giant snakes hung in even more gigantic trees, ready to drop on anyone and devour their prey. Where nothing was certain and everything reeked of pain, retching and death. She was always trapped there, with the people all dressed as jesters. But miserable ones. Ones that even with their happy faces; were only trying to attack her and any others they spotted. Nightmares caused by the drugs. So vivid. Terrifyingly real. Never ending. Inescapable.

“Am I going to die?” It was a silly question. Of course she was going to die. After seventeen years of pain, heartache, medicine, needles, doctors, loss; all of it would be gone soon. She hoped it didn’t end here. That it was just the end of this leg of the journey, and that there was something else, far better, waiting for her.

He wrestled with her question for a while, studying her. The yellowed skin, sunken cheeks and dull lifeless eyes. Why had she forced them to take her off the meds that kept all this pain away? He knew why, of course. He’d been there at least half the nights she’ woken up thrashing, shaking in fear of whatever demon had haunted her dreams that night. She’d chosen sanity, and she paid for it with pain.

She would die. Soon. He wanted to hide that from her. Telling her it would be all right in the end was so much easier. But she couldn’t take more lies. “Yes, you are.”

A gentle nod, quiet and reassured. He hadn’t lied. They had always lied before. Always thought she couldn’t handle the truth. Didn’t they see? The lies just made her more scared of death.

Death. It had always loomed over her. A block that stopped her from all the greatest parts of life. She would never marry. Never bring a child into the world. She could never grow old with someone.


He looked up from a medical report. “Yeah sweetie?”

“I’m scared.”

“I know, sweetheart. I know.” He set the report down and picked her up with gentle arms, cradling her frail figure.

His arms were reassuring where his words failed. Death was coming. Faster than it did to most, but really no different, right? But the idea of being gone forever, it scared her. She didn’t want to be put in a box, to get buried. Earth covering her ugly, disease ruined face. Worms slowly eating away her coffin, and later her dead body. She pulled a face. How gross. But that was all she was destined for. A box. Covered by the earth’s crusty skin.

Claire leaned her head on her father’s chest. Her hairless head. She wore a hat of course, a knit beret her mother had made for her from soft black yarn. Along with a silver locket from her dad, it was her most treasured possession. A tiny, inaudible sigh escaped her. It was time to be a big girl. Brave and ready to face what would come.

It was tonight. The very end had finally come. Just breathing for a little longer, and she’d never have to fight again. She’d be comfortably numb.

“Hey dad?”

He glanced down at her.

“I love you.”


Pianolover’s Inspiration Monday

The prompts were a strangers thankyou and I’m the only one who can’t. I underlined them.

A Strangers Thank You

The busy shouts of rush-hour echo in my ears. They all need to go somewhere. The man with the red shirt needs to go to the football stadium. The short old lady needs to go to target. I need to make it to the train station so that I can report the weather for channel 7 news.
It’s a good job. I love reporting weather. I do it all the time. My shoes click on the stairs in time with the rain drops leaking from the sky. A heavy rainstorm is on approach and will hit southern Springfield first, before heading west towards Jacksonville.
Hmm, I should buy an umbrella, I’m headed to Jacksonville.
I reach into my pocket and pull out my days history. A receipt, half chewed gum placed back into it’s wrapper, a ticket that says Troy Jameson, train number 623 and $10.26. Perfect, I think walking into the store. I can get a red umbrella. Like that one. I love the color red because it reminds me of the sun setting the evening air in fire, as it dips beneath the mountains.
“That ‘ll be $9.99” the cashiers southern accent reminds me of the new intern., Bethany. She tried to get MY weather segment. Stupid hick. Nobody gets MY weather segment.
As I step outside, I see a stranger walk in the same direction as me. His face is long and he has a blonde beard. I can’t see his hair, which is underneath a business hat. It perfectly matches his large trench coat. As he walks past me, I hear him say thank-you.
“for what?” I raise my eyebrows.
“for this!” he teases me, flaunting my ticket in front of my face.
“hey! Thief!” I yell, hoping someone will stop him, but, unfortunately, no one does.
-Sigh- It’s okay. I wanted to walk home anyway.

∞                            ∞                            ∞

“Hey chuck,” I sigh into the cell phone standing out-side of my house. “sorry I missed work today.”
“Who is this?” Chuck asked over the phone.
“It’s Troy. Didn’t you recognize my number?”
“Troy?! Thank God your okay!”
“Chuck, what do you mean?”
“Listen, don’t worry about your weather segment.”
I bury my head into my hands and sigh. “Please tell me you didn’t give it to Bethany?”
“You still don’t know, do you?”
“Know what?! What are you making such a deal of!”
“Go inside and watch channel seven. You’ll see then.”
“Okay. Fine. Talk to you later.”
I step in to my house and feel the familiar cold of a house that hasn’t been occupied for a day. What could be so important? It probably doesn’t even affect me. I grab the remote and hit power, than 7. I did not expect the sight that greeted me.
A beautiful reporter with long blonde hair and a white jacket was standing in an open field. In the background was a train lying on it’s side. The reporter was saying, “I’m at the site of a tragic train wreck. The cause remains unknown. Luckily it was a small train and wasn’t very full. 17 have sustained serious injury and are currently in the hospital in critical condition. 49 have escaped with only minor injuries and remain in the hospital for observation. A handful of lucky people, 7, remain unscathed. Shockingly only one death has been reported. This man had no identification on him and no one is sure of his name yet. If you have information regarding the identity of this man,” She said, as the screen zoomed out to show a mans face, “please call us at….” here the phone number for the news station flashes onscreen.
Who could that be? I wonder. To the left of the reporter is a very recognizable face. I see a man with a long face and a blonde beard. His hair is hidden underneath a large business hat. All that i can see of his body, is a blood-stained trench coat.
How can the world just keep on going? I wonder. this man just died, because he got on the train I was supposed to be on. I should be dead, but im not. And no one know or cares. life goes on.

∞                              ∞                            ∞

“This is Bethany Hodges, bringing the weather to you.” I turn the T.V. off. Years later, I’m the only one who can’t get over his death.
‘It doesn’t make that much difference’ They say. ‘You never even knew him’ ‘Let life go on, move on’ But what they don’t realize is that I already did. It does make that much difference, it changed my life. I never would have let Bethany even help me with the weather segment, but now I just gave it to her. I never even knew him, but he was still a person with a family and a life. Just like people would say of me if he hadn’t stolen my ticket. And i am letting life go on, I am moving on. In fact my life is moving on even better than before.
I can now enjoy each day like it was my first, and live each day like it was my last, because a strangers thank-you has changed my life for the better.

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Hope you like.