For The Glory Of...

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Thrillers  |  House: Young Adult Readers And Writers
In the midst of a dazed state, the Soldier reminisces their memories in hopes of remembering one valiant and good decision they ever made.

Submitted: December 17, 2015

A A A | A A A

Submitted: December 17, 2015



For The Glory Of…


Mistake. This was a mistake. My first conscious thought I formulate in my head are those four words which work together so nicely especially at this very moment right now. Oddly enough, it is this word ‘mistake’ which occupies my mind more so than that of the words ‘what the hell happened’, another four piece five syllable statement I’ve uttered more than I’d care to admit throughout my life. But here, in this particular situation it seems to be the less preferred choice of words to bring me to my senses of what has actually happened.

What DID happen?’ I finally exhaled. However not through my lips but within my mind once more. Almost like a tire spurting a quick puff of air when having the pressure checked. That was it, ‘Pressure’. Yet another less desired word which personally made me feel physically ill in the pit of my gut. By (figuratively) applying consistent ‘pressure’ to my brain, I began to regain the essential senses for proper human function. As the weight on my conscious grew, my sight faded in like watching a glass being filled with liquid from underneath.

The liquid though was a thick, colored substance that filled my vision with what could be assumed as concrete filling a neglected pot hole in the middle of a street. Eventually my sight settled on an entire screen of blue. The sky. Clearest day id witnessed in quite some time. The ‘pressure’ while not uncomfortable seemed to reach its limit and no longer acted as gravity pulling and holding my conscious together but even began to subside. This proved problematic, for once it seemed to deplete and fade from my use entirely, it left me with only one of five attributes, staring off into space.

Well’ I spurt ‘what the hell do I do now?

Suddenly, the pressure returned with a vengeance. However still not inflicting any pain or trauma, my brain seemed to flex and the floodgates of my conscious collapsed under the immense force. The sensation of my eyes physically bulging and expanding from my skull was a re-introduction to the world of physical feeling. In an instant it seemed, I experienced what I believe to have been the infamous ‘moments before you die’ phenomenon. Within the span of one second, a slideshow presentation of my life was projected onto the canvas of my eyes. Every image chugged out in a sloppy, half assed fashion. It was all strewn together by a transition which seemed to meld my memories into one another, like a pool of liquid meeting another and mixing its compounds to produce a new concoction, another memory.

Along with the recollection of my crude past, I regained my comprehension, understanding and awareness for who I was, what I was doing, where the hell I was and without a moment’s hesitation, I wrung my will of every drop of capability  to induce even the slightest movement from any part of me. This began a spastic struggle that caught me by surprise at just how much control over my body and functions I had regained after being incapacitated only minutes ago.

I was moving, but something laid over me and had pinned to the earth, so the most movement I could manage was a helpless shrug in my joints and shoulders. Immediately realizing how stupid I am, I attempted to turn my head from the narrow view I had of the sky in any direction. My movement was limited yet again for something had bunched underneath my chin like a compressed spring that wrapped around my entire neck. The restraint wasn’t tight so I was able to breathe, but lacking the capability to turn my head in either direction, up or down more than hardly an inch only allowed for the sight of still tree tops with leaves which matched the shade of the bark into my field of vision.

After another few minutes of failed attempts at removing whatever it was that held me, I stopped in the midst of understanding that it wouldn’t help. Staring back at the sky, its sea of blunt color looking back, I began to speak.

© Copyright 2018 aidan collins. All rights reserved.

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