A War Story

this is a flash fiction: has 71 words only

They demanded. I obeyed. I fought for my country. I fought, but still dreamed of home. Dreamed of the coffee-colored house that stayed abandoned on 6th street. After fighting for 4, bloody years. I returned. Returned like that Prodigal Son. Returned to a “WELCOME HOME” banner. But it wasn't the same. It wasn't how I imagined it. Each day I was haunted. Haunted by those bloody days. How old was that lad? The black man that I shot; did he have a wife, a son, a daughter??

I had enough. I reenlisted. And fought for my country again. Lived each day with blood on my hands. Killing every young man, that was my nation’s enemy. Killing the men, that were Sons, Husbands, Fathers. Killing and not knowing if I will ever be able to forgive myself.

Author's Note

This is a flash fiction. Please don't count the grammar errors. They are supposed to be like this.
Hope you enjoy. Review. I would be glad to hear from you.

Reviews

[3X3MPLER]

thats exactly what every patriotic fighter goes through.owesome