You hum quietly to yourself, rocking back and forth where you're sitting on the cold ground, gripping your friend's hand harder. Your gaze leaps from the fire painted sky to the grass between your feet to your friends glazed over eyes, and back to the sky. The cold wind chills your face and dries the damp tear tracks on your cheeks, the smoke it carries stings your eyes and airways.
Someone grabs your shoulder. You glance up at them, still rocking back and forth, then down at your feet. They move their hand to your arm and haul you to your feet, you stumble but find footing. They pull you along with them, the limp hand falls from your grasp onto the ground.
The narrator narrates this with grief filled voice. It pains them how all the fight has fled from you, all the passion you and your friends fought with, which died with them. They hate to see you shaking, following the enemy blindly when you once would have fought with tooth and nail. For a moment even they had thought that, against the odds, there might still have been a happy ending for you.
Trigger warnings: scenes of war, implied character death, general angst
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Daydreams
General FictionThis is my collection of what I believe would be classified as flash fictions. Most of these will be somewhere around 300-500 words, but some will be longer and some shorter. More info in the introduction chapter.
