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Aftermath This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine.

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   How could he face going home.

His mind was ravaged

with the memories of death.

Flashes of his splintered enemies

plagued his mind

as he tried to sleep on the plane,

The sounds of screams and gunfire

pounded his dreams

until he opened his eyes to see

his plane slowly descending.



His grim expression slowly turned to

happy

as images of his love flowed into him.

He found comfort knowing

he was going to see her soon.

Real soon.

he adjust his bones in his seat.

The pain of his three gunshot wounds

stabbed him

as he moved the left side of his body.



The plane landed softly

but the landing still shook his body.

The scar on his right leg

throbbed as he stood while

The plane came to a soft stop at the

terminal.

He dragged his body out of his seat,

no bags to carry, destroyed by the fire,

the hotel in cinders.



While passing the smiling stewardess,

he noticed her staring at the one visible

would above his right eye, where a

bullet had grazed his eyebrow. But

he smiled, and nodded at the fake, plastic

grin she pasted on her face.



He stepped off the plane

wondering what would be waiting for

him.

with other passengers

that merely visited a grandmother,

uncle, or just took in sights.

He walked down the stairs.

Walking has come quite the chore now.

His wounds are making sure of that.

He scanned the airfield

to see if he could find her.



There she was.

Standing off in the distance.

Her face as beautiful

as the day he left it.

Her smile bore into his mind.

His smile hurt

the healing burns on his face.

Tears started to fill his eyes.

He started to walk toward her.

As she came toward him,

his walk slowly turned into a fast walk.

Then a job.

Finally an all-out run.

He ran despite his wounds

yelling at him to stop.



The two collided and squeezed each other

as if they were never letting go.

The time they had been apart

seemed like forever.

Though in reality

it was only a few weeks.

For him not knowing

if he was going to see

the light of another day.

For her not knowing

if he was alive, hurt,

or dead.

They hugged for at least five minutes,

crying with joy

as he picked her up and twirled her.

She landed and

gazed in his eyes

that reflected his pain.

He saw only innocence

and sweetness in hers.

Her eyes comforted him

because the only eyes

that he has been around

were either dead or evil.



A word was not spoken

but all was explained.




This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. This piece has been published in Teen Ink’s monthly print magazine.






Join the Discussion

This article has 3 comments. Post your own now!

DarkMountain said...
Jul. 14, 2010 at 7:02 pm
Amazing! Very well written! Keep it up!
 
lildutchgurl said...
Jan. 4, 2010 at 10:39 pm
touching!!! i could feel his pain and loved how his physical wounds elluded to a deeper pain
 
artlover said...
Mar. 29, 2009 at 11:30 pm
thats so good! i really liked it. way to go!
 
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