On a Wing and a Lagomorph

I have been taking a break on poetry for a while and working on my first book short story, novel whatever it is, that's why I haven't been very active in here lately:/ Of course its about the Bunny:)

On a Wing and a Lagomorph Chapter 1  

 

They say you can’t truly grasp delight unless you’ve tasted the sharp edge of pain. I remember reading that once, and scoffing. Now I’m not so sure.

I couldn’t bring myself to open the locket around my neck. Maybe I wasn’t ready to face joy, "not in the face of so much despair. Or maybe I was afraid I’d collapse entirely, crushed under the weight of my own resolve. That ridiculous, heart-shaped bauble held an unnerving power. If I listened closely, I could almost hear it mocking me.

“Come on, take a look... Bunny.”

I suppose I should explain. I’m, "no, I was, "dead. I don’t know exactly how it happened, only that my base was destroyed early this morning.

I remember standing behind the mess hall, sipping my coffee, flicking my cigarette ash toward the gravel. The alarm had just started blaring. Another drill, I thought. Then, just as I was stubbing out the smoke, a hot red flash swallowed everything.

And then… silence.

The next thing I knew, I was waking up inside a footlocker in dormitory 1107.

Luckily, there was a pocketknife stashed inside. I used it to pry open the latches. The room around me was scorched. The bunks were reduced to wireframes, covered in soot. The windows were blown out, the sky beyond a reddish haze. The only light came from the partially melted fire exit sign behind the stairway door.

I recognized this place. I’d stood countless hours on “dorm guard” duty here, usually as punishment for one of my many infractions.

Now, about the body I currently occupy.

I am... "for reasons I don’t fully understand, "a four-foot-tall stuffed bunny. Burlap, with long floppy ears. I don’t remember my name. My memory is fragmented. Bits and pieces come and go, but nothing sticks. The footlocker was marked “Riley 6633,” so maybe that’s me.

Thanks to a rip in the fabric of my neck, my head tends to hang low. I have to lift it manually to see where I’m going. I keep searching, "for answers, for a purpose, for something to hold on to.

The base is a skeleton. Buildings gutted, aircraft fuselages scattered like toys. At first, I thought the ornamental planes were placed for show. Later, I realized they were laid out to appear, from above, as if aircraft were leaving their respective hangars.

It was a trick. The dormitories were designed to look like hangars. The aircraft were the truly precious commodity. The people-"us?" Not so much.

I wandered the airbase for hours, looking for signs of life. I found none. Many of the planes were still safe in their shelters, but most of the people, it seemed, were gone.

I ambled to the edge of a runway. The silence pressed in like a physical weight. The sky burned dark red. The air reeked of charred life and smoldering ash. I collapsed against a signal light pole, too tired to hold up my head. Turns out, even dead stuffed bunnies need sleep.

When I woke, I was half-buried under tumbleweeds. They clung to my burlap skin like Velcro. Having rough fabric for hands is limiting, especially when those digits are more mitten than skin. After a few tumbles and a good amount of cursing, I shook them off and trudged toward one of the hangars.

The door was partially open. I slipped through with ease, "there are benefits to a flexible frame. Inside were two DA20 trainer aircraft. One was under maintenance. The other looked ready. I hoped to find a working radio. A TV. Anything that might tell me what the hell had happened.

I found nothing helpful in the hangar. So I turned toward the control tower. If any building had a working radio, it would be that one.

As I got closer, a new smell joined the burnt air: decay.

Near the tower was the charred shell of a jeep, its tires melted into the tarmac. The driver was still inside, hands glued to the steering wheel. A gruesome scene. And all too familiar.

“Where’s your field pass, Airman?”

Startled, I spun around. No one was there. Just the driver. Still. Silent.

I rushed through the shattered door and up the stairwell, stepping over bodies that barely resembled humans. The stench was unbearable. I just wanted to find a radio and get out.

In the control room, a few figures slumped over their consoles. The blast-proof glass held. The equipment seemed intact. I grabbed a hand radio from a military police officer, unsure if my new body even had a voice.

“Hello? Hello? Is anyone out there?”

To my shock, one of the controllers moved.

“Get back to your post, Airman. NORAD has reported suspicious activity.”

I stared at the man’s corpse. He was still clutching the microphone.

“Look man, you’re dead. We’re all dead. Wake up, "it’s over.”

That was when it happened.

A yellow streak of light burst from his chest and flew into my mouth. I didn’t mean to inhale it, but it happened just the same.

Thoughts flooded me-"his thoughts. His final moments. His memories. His knowledge. I couldn’t tell which were mine anymore. I stood there, stunned.

I didn’t have tear ducts, but I cried. Visceral. I cried for his wife, his son, even his dog. Max. I cried for his dreams, all extinguished in a blink.

Then I turned and left.

I avoided the jeep driver this time. I didn’t want to absorb another soul. Not yet.

Back at the hangar, I began to experience something: that controller had been a civilian pilot. I saw things differently, "his knowledge had become mine. I think I can fly. I had a shot at escaping this scorched hellscape.

That’s when it hit me... "the locket. I had to open it.

I had to remember… who I was- "fully. Somehow, I knew it was the answer.

And to truly remember, I had to go back to where I was standing when it happened.

By now, the mess hall was absolutely putrid-smelling. I skirted around it to the back portico, the place where I’d stood with my coffee that morning. And there I was, "my body-"still gripping the mug, lying face down on the cracked concrete.

Looking at your own corpse isn’t something you expect to do. I wanted to dive into that lifeless pile of half-baked flesh, take a shower, and slip into a fresh battle dress uniform.

Not today, Bunny. Not today.

I reached into the hole at the back of my neck to retrieve the pocketknife. I opened it and pried the locket apart.

The moment the halves separated, a golden light spilled out. Inside were two photographs. One was of my wife. The other-"me. Beneath my picture was a lock of my own hair.

I remembered now. I’d bought this stuffed bunny for my daughter the day before my deployment. She’d been heartbroken I was going to leave. I made three lockets: one for my wife, one for myself, and one for the bunny. I tucked hers into its vest pocket and was going to have it shipped to her this morning. Mine went around my neck.

Was this how I’d ended up like this? Had I transferred some part of myself into the toy that night, "without realizing?

I reached over and gently removed the other locket from my own corpse. I stuffed both it and the pocketknife back into the hollow of my neck.

Bunny… that was my nickname. That’s why I chose this rabbit.

That golden light hadn’t disappeared. It pulsed faintly now, tugging at me like an unspecified crave.

They were still alive. I could feel it.

And they were in danger.

I had to go. I had to find them.

So, back to the hangar I went, "this time, with purpose.

Off in the distance, as I passed the control tower, a wailing sound startled me.

A large black shadow loomed over the jeep driver, "I could hear his cries as it was devouring his soul.

Guilt surged through me, raw and sudden, as I watched him being consumed.

Without thinking, I ran toward the shadow figure, yelling,
“BACK OFF! LEAVE HIM ALONE!”

My instincts took over as I dived into the shadow figure, slamming it into the building behind the jeep.

It rose again and delivered the most penetrating blow to my head I had ever felt. I crashed to the ground, shaking off the impact.

That was the first time I’d felt pain since I died, "and it wasn’t a pleasant reminder.

I mustered enough energy to stand, then lunged, reflexively my cute bunny jaws snapping open to three times their original size.

I bit down... "right into my ethereal attacker.

It wailed, trying to rip free from my mouth, but I clamped harder, my teeth piercing its shadowy skin.

I could feel it: I was inhaling its contents… the jeep driver’s soul flowed into me as the shrouded form began to dissipate.

Master Sergeant Roberts didn’t taste any better than Phil the controller, but I was grateful for the newfound proficiency in hand-to-hand combat.

I vowed never to leave another lingering soul behind, "should they meet the same fate as the good sergeant.
I didn’t know for sure what that thing was, or what would’ve happened to him…but deep down, I knew it wasn’t a trip to the Poconos for some sightseeing and a back rub.

Strangely energized, I marched off toward the hangar, feeling a new strength in me.

Seems I’m not the only thing skirting the realms of the dead and the living.

And I’m beginning to think… I have some kind of purpose being here.

I pulled the hangar door chains down with ease, "my newfound soul companion had given me pretty good strength for a stuffed rabbit.

I removed the blocks from under the wheels and pulled the trainer plane to the taxiway.

Climbing into the cockpit, my feet barely touched the foot pedals.

I’d have to fly sitting at the edge of my seat just to steer the rudders properly.

I wasn’t too worried about the brakes... "if I had to, I could always just jump from the plane before landing.
After all, being a dead stuffed rabbit has its privileges.

The engine started right up.
I throttled up the plane and placed the headset over my giant floppy ears.

I jokingly spoke into the mic: 

“This is Riley 6633 in WZAE 119, requesting permission to depart.”

I floored the throttle and took off, "using my newfound navigation system to find my wife and daughter.

So if you see a stuffed bunny flying an airplane, don’t be alarmed…

It’s only hope.

Author's Note

You didn't think the Bunny was dead? He is alive and well LOL... well sorta