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Rated: 13+ · Short Story · Military · #2013436
Part 1 of my collection of short stories, which is titled "Light at the End of the Tunnel"
THE WARRIOR


         There was sand everywhere. In my eyes, my ears, I could even hear the gritty noise of the granules grinding against my teeth as I nervously looked to my right and left. Me and my friends were walking in a line, taking a look back to check on the ones behind us every few paces. It was quiet. Way too quiet  for the time of day. I could hear the soft crunch of the gravel beneath my feet, feel the extreme heat on my face that I've slowly gotten use to in the last few months. The silent breeze slightly cooled the combination of dirt and sweat on my face.

         The main thoughts occupying my mind at that time were of home. The pictures inside the helmet covering my head of a beautiful girl, the house with the land left to me by my late grandfather, and other things I loved. These thoughts caused a shift in my focus I found out later to be almost fatal. It was when I felt a slight give in the ground beneath my feet. I was thrown into the sky as a more intense heat and pressure assaulted my entire body. My ears were ringing as my friends came running at me...

         ... I awoke suddenly in a cold sweat. My breathing was ragged, coming in short, loud gasps, waking the one next to me.
         
         "Clark? Are you alright? Did you have the dream again?", she asked worriedly, a hint of drowsiness in her voice, hugging me from behind.

         I grabbed her hand, kissed it softly. "Yeah, I'm fine hun, go back to sleep."

         She silently obeyed, crawling back under the covers.

         I stood up and walked onto the balcony of our apartment. The summer night was pleasantly chilly. The moon was full and the stars were bright. I took a deep breath as the images of my friends who did not make back home with me passed through my eyes. A hint of longing and regret built within my chest.

         I miss you guys, see you soon.
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