I Love to Write Fiction
There was no place to retreat further. The three had their backs to a cliff and just some rocks to crouch behind. It was just a matter of time and each of them knew it.
Their companions laid out in the open, sprawled grotesquely wherever death had found them. Yet each of the three focused on the enemy who steadily wormed his way closer. Each was determined to sell their life at the highest cost, yet in spite of the odds, each hoped for a miracle and survival.
The oldest of the three thought of home and hearth. A woman who would wait in vain for him was on his mind. In the spaces between shots, a portion of his mind thought of her. He could smell her hair to the core of his being. His hands would tingle with the sensation of touching her skin.
He didn't worry about his friends, but his heart pleaded for a return home. All his world came down to was wanting to kiss those lips one more time, to hold his woman tightly. Thoughts of her beauty and her willingness to share those intimate moments blurred his vision for just a moment.
A lull in the battle gave him time to reload and while his fingers inserted shells and his eyes scanned the area, his mind was with his love. He didn't blame the enemy, nor did he cry out to his God, he just silently begged for mercy for his lover.
Their companions laid out in the open, sprawled grotesquely wherever death had found them. Yet each of the three focused on the enemy who steadily wormed his way closer. Each was determined to sell their life at the highest cost, yet in spite of the odds, each hoped for a miracle and survival.
The oldest of the three thought of home and hearth. A woman who would wait in vain for him was on his mind. In the spaces between shots, a portion of his mind thought of her. He could smell her hair to the core of his being. His hands would tingle with the sensation of touching her skin.
He didn't worry about his friends, but his heart pleaded for a return home. All his world came down to was wanting to kiss those lips one more time, to hold his woman tightly. Thoughts of her beauty and her willingness to share those intimate moments blurred his vision for just a moment.
A lull in the battle gave him time to reload and while his fingers inserted shells and his eyes scanned the area, his mind was with his love. He didn't blame the enemy, nor did he cry out to his God, he just silently begged for mercy for his lover.
61-69, M
