Private Time

18 01 2007

I don’t normally respond to trolls, but I’m working late and what the hell?  I haven’t posted any of my writing in a while, and even though plenty is on the internet if you bother to Google me, I don’t think much of my fiction is up.  I’ve mostly published articles and I tend to be very protective of my fiction.  I’m much less protective of my poetry and you can find it at www.imaginelove.writing.com along with my other journal that I haven’t written in forever.   You can also find my erotica by searching my LT account in the Erotica Group.

This is a small vignette I wrote as a story idea and never came back to.  I think it speaks enough to be capturing but I still don’t know where it’s going even after a year of thinking on it.  Please, let me know what you think.

*

Hers

I am not a beautiful maiden.

This war took that innocence from me, it seems like we have been fighting it forever, and at times it is very far away. Now, it’s in my hometown. The enemy turned towards us in anger, after they saw the progress we were making to defeat them.

Now, all around me is total destruction, and I wonder where I’ve found the strength to reflect on my situation. I thought I was strong. I thought I could handle anything the terrorists brought. I guess I thought that because it had never touched me personally before. The thought rises up like bile in the back of my throat. How could I have ever been so dumb? I could not handle this; I cannot control this!

The attack has been coming nonstop for several months now, I think. You tend to lose the days when fighting a seemingly never-ending battle. Some of the people here have already given up and surrendered to the enemy. The enemy told us that if we joined them, we would not be harmed, but the screams I hear at night prove that wrong. Things are not better in their camp, I remember thinking, and I would not go over there anyways. Now I am not so sure.

The sound of galloping broke through the simple walls of numbness I had thrown up to protect me from the most recent attack. My eyes, blurry with tears, looked up to see who was coming. I didn’t even care any longer. What is life to a woman who has lost everything?

His

Once, she was a beautiful maiden.

He could tell from the way she held herself that she was broken but he knew of her former beauty. But now, she was simply a shadow. Tears flooded his eyes as he veiwed what she had lost. She was kneeling in the dust, covered in ash and blood – holding her youngest child. He knew there was nothing she could do to save the little boy, laying lifeless in her arms. The greater tragedy was that this was the last remnant of the life she had before the attack.

He dismounted the horse and quickly went to her side, kneeling beside her, holding her while she wept. Finally, he worked up the courage to speak.

“Angela? Angela… look at me. We have to leave this place, it’s not safe here.” He stood, trying to bring her with him.

“It’s not safe anywhere.” She mumbled and refused to move. He was surprised that she even heard him.

“We must go, it’s nearly dark. Remember the curfew?” The state had institued a curfew when they declared the area in a state of emergency. Now, it was only several minutes away. “It’s for our protection, Angela. Come on, we will bring him with us and seek God for mercy.”

He had never seen eyes as wild as hers. She was a woman on fire, ignited by hate and pain. “The government cannot protect me, and where is God? Where is He? How can he let this happen? I thought God hated war… how could this happen?”

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