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Memoirs of a Post Modern America Chapter 1 "Coming Home"

posted 3/26/2008 6:52:45 PM |
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  cordog3000

She closed her eyes, and squeezed his arm, trying to block out the drenched clothes, the dense smoke, and the excruciating pain. She thought back wondering what she had done to deserve this. As tears rolled down her face, she shuddered, thinking that maybe this was just a dream; maybe today had been a dream. Such a perfect world could not have ended… Not right now… Not like this…
They awoke that morning, sun shining brightly and fresh frost glistening like diamonds on the windows. She rolled over and gazed sleepily at her husband, drinking in his eyes as only a newlywed lover could. What could be better than lying in bed with the one you love and experiencing that feeling of eternity?
Their first day of forever started beautifully. It was exactly the way she had imagined since she was a little girl. As she cooked breakfast, the classic scrambled eggs, bacon and toast, he shoveled the driveway and marveled at the fresh snow weighing on the pine trees. They had been incredibly fortunate in times as this to buy a small but beautiful home in a quiet town. Although the convenience of the city and the wealth of jobs might have afforded them a better quality life, he had been content just to know that she was safe from the daily dangers of living in a place where one could get lost standing still. She of course had been happy to finally be with the man of her dreams. They could have lived in the biggest mansion or the smallest hut, but so long as they were together, she could want for nothing more.
After breakfast, which transpired quite as all picturesque meals do, she cleared the table and started on the dishes, playfully stunting any attempts he made to assist her. He reluctantly settled down to watch the morning news. She observed the small expressions of joy and relief that crept over his face every time he heard mention that nearly all troops had returned home from the war. He, being a former soldier and a veteran of the war himself, had never agreed with his country’s decisions, but had silently served his time, never complaining of the physical, mental, and emotional tolls it had taken. She was just grateful that he had safely returned and that he would never leave her again.
When the dishes were done, they headed back to the bedroom to get dressed, but of course having been married only yesterday, they preoccupied themselves with everything but the task at hand. After momentarily satisfying their intimate desires, they dressed and headed out to the local grocery for necessities. He was a gentleman by nature, and ensured that their little car was quite warm before allowing her to even step outside. She smiled inside knowing that the trip to the store was no more than a few minutes, yet still quivered with love at his consideration. As they drove along, he pointed to the gas station on the corner, quietly noting that the prices had dropped lower than they had been in years. Another beautiful and wonderfully tangible sign of the ending Middle Eastern conflict.
They arrived at the store, and as usual, he insisted on dropping her off at the front door, then catching up inside. She stepped out of the car, giggling at his joke about a live in valet, and proceeded to tip-toe her way through the slushy concoction on the sidewalk and into the store. When he caught up with her inside, she was already halfway through her list. He had often made admiring mention of her ability to shop quickly and today was no exception. As she wondered aloud what type of vegetables would go best with tonight’s dinner, he came behind her slipping his arms around her waist. She heard a whisper in her ear, but couldn’t decipher it as there was a commotion happening outside the small store. As she coyly turned to face him, she glanced towards the front door to see a small car barreling towards the grocery. Her mouth opened to gasp, but instead there was a screech and thud as the car came straight through the doors and hit the middle cashier lane.
As the dust cleared, she realized that she had involuntarily dropped to the floor, spilling her basket of food everywhere. After checking to see if she was ok, her husband kissed her forehead and warily walked in the direction of the car to assist the driver. It was then, that her world disappeared. She knew, she felt what he had felt for months, almost years in that country so far away. The sweaty palms, the pounding heart, the sick feeling of impending doom. The driver raised his head slowly and feebly whispered. One glance at her husband’s face, and she knew what he said. If there was a strain of truth in Hollywood, it was this. It happened in less than a second, yet every millisecond felt like a minute. First the flash, the crushing pressure, and lose flying debris. Shopping carts and soup cans twisted into red hot demons, silently screaming through the air and knocking over entire shelves like a bowling ball and pins. She watched every moment as she flew violently across the floor slick with broken glass, food, and melting aluminum, her eyes fixated on one thing. When the air returned to the room, so did the sound. The wind rushed in like a hurricane and with it the most horrendous sounds her ears had ever witnessed. Twisting metal, falling concrete, and smashing glass mixed in a chorus of hell. Pulling herself to her feet, she fell back realizing that she had very little balance and even less feeling in her lower body. She cried his name, momentarily mystified that she could barely hear her own voice, as she began to crawl back towards where she had lost sight of him. Through the wreckage, over shelves and lifeless bodies she crawled for what seemed like forever. A hand clutched at her as she went, and she stopped just long enough to push a mangled shelf off an elderly man. As she neared the blackened area of the blast, her body’s senses began coming to, and she felt the pain of the gouges, cuts and bruises. She smelled burning hair and flesh, mingled with smoke, blood and a disorienting array of destruction. The mixture was overwhelming and the dizziness unbearable.
When she caught sight of him, she stopped, choking back the tears and urges of nausea. Only then did she realized that she herself had been terribly wounded, twisted splinters of metal protruding from every part of her body. As she crept the last few feet toward her love, she felt her energy, her life, draining from her body. She closed her eyes, and squeezed his arm, trying to block out the drenched clothes, the dense smoke and the excruciating pain. She thought back wondering what she had done to deserve this. As tears rolled down her face, she shuddered, thinking that maybe this was just a dream, maybe today had been a dream. Such a perfect world couldn’t have ended. The troops had come home. They had come home, and so had the war

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   read more blogs!

Blogs by cordog3000:
Dreams
The Search...
One Day...
Memoirs of a Post Modern America Chapter 3 "Mornings" (part 3)
Memoirs of a Post Modern America Chapter 3 "Mornings" (part 2)
Memoirs of a Post Modern America Chapter 3 "Mornings" (part 1)
Memoirs of a Post Modern America Chapter 2 "Miranda" (part 3)
Memoirs of a Post Modern America Chapter 2 "Miranda" (part 2)
Memoirs of a Post Modern America Chapter 2 "Miranda" (part 1)
Memoirs of a Post Modern America Chapter 1 "Coming Home"
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Leadership


Comments:

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zena343

Mar 26 @ 7:11PM  
What a heart wrenching story!! Kudos
itsallforfun

Mar 26 @ 7:24PM  
so sad
redbronze

Mar 26 @ 8:10PM  
Man that was dense with emotion.. And you know it probably won't be long before we do experiance it here in the US as people do the world over..
cutecarrie6969

Mar 26 @ 9:18PM  
Wow.....very good story. I was honestly captivated by the midway point. Applause and thumbs up for you.

Andakudotoo!
sundance64

Mar 26 @ 9:31PM  
Very well written!!
BlueEyes708

Mar 26 @ 10:51PM  
Yes, and knowbody realizes that this could be very, very, true.

great story. and thank you for serving,

Welcome home.

loveableone

Mar 26 @ 10:58PM  
Wow, that should come with a tissue warning!
ThomasDaCat

Mar 26 @ 11:14PM  
Gawd. I hope that story is really a work of fiction. So real that it's scary.
TheAvenger

Mar 27 @ 2:31AM  
Excellent writing...as I said in an email, you should try to get your work published!

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Memoirs of a Post Modern America Chapter 1 "Coming Home"